Up, higher, climbing. At first I was afraid. I had forgotten how to do this. There was a time when nothing came easier but today those first steps were harder then ever. I was so afraid. I thought about going back but then....I used to do this so often when I was young. I wanted to fly again.
So I pushed on, climbing, the ground benеath my feet was soft and crumbling and I thought that this might be my last day on this planet. There was nothing between me and a long tumble downhill that could have been my death.
I reach toward a tree and grabbed on to the trunk.
And then all the fear was gone. A sudden surge of energy and certainty rushed trough me, filled my head and released my feet from the grip of death. I walked faster, still climbing, higher and higher, reaching for branches and trees, they held me in their arms.
I was seven again. The woods were mine and there was nothing that could harm me, nothing that could stop me. But then....I wasn't seven. I am 21. But the woods are still mine like they've always been. And that made me even happier.
And then I got to the top of the hill. There was a little secluded meadow full of flowers and little trees and insects. It seems no one had been here for a long time. The sun shone above and the sky was a warm blue. I felt like I was flying, soaring above the mountaintops and the beating hart of the mountains was merged with mine.
I stood there for a while, lost in the sensations. Just me and Nature.
Then I started my journey back. My feet were light and I barely needed to look where I was stepping. The trees held me, the rocks gave me foothold.
Me and Nature. That's all there was.