Monday's Memoir: Happy Birthday To You.

You took me to the mountains.
It was the end of your day.  The end of your youthful bliss, you said.
I laughed.
You were serious.

We stood against a smooth, limestone wall.  You said we should go up but I didn't see how it was possible.  At this point in my life I scaled only things that came with obvious routes...Stairs...Colorful climbing holds...Clunky slabs of rock where nature had placed it's obvious route to stepping and grabbing.  Approaching the silvery smooth wall, I voiced my apprehension.  This was not possible.  Where do I step?  What to I grab?  "To scale a smooth slab, you must use your whole body and friction,"  you said.    "It will work."

I was amazed how gently I could go up and up without brute force or grunting, but by keeping my body up against the rock and stepping as carefully and deliberately as I could.  As I climbed, a small waterfall trickled down beside me.  It was all so beautiful and I was actually doing it! 

It was at the top of the falls where you showed me dusk in the canyon -  how it slowly falls like a cool, draping organza, blurring the lines of the trees into the hillside.  The jagged edges of those giant mountains blending softly into a dulling blue sky.

And as I laid down, the rock warmed my back.  I, too, was sinking into it this sun-soaked granite.  I was blurring into this sky line.  This day.
I was so happy.

You were so unhappy.
I reminded you that it was your day.  A day to celebrate! But you did not feel like celebrating.
You felt like pontificating.  "It is the end of my youth!", you said.  "What's to celebrate?"

I laughed again, which I don't think you liked very much.  But, I couldn't help it.
There was a light in your eyes as you spoke.  While the sun dimmed, your eyes burned with a color I had never seen before.  I was convinced that you were alive as ever.  "This is only the beginning," I said.  "Now you can really make a life.  Your life.  Your choice."  You agreed, but reminded me that the stick must be picked up at both ends.

I conceded and did my best to mourn with you.  Bury sadly with you the end of childhood and careless freedom.  Feel with you the weight of impeding responsibility,

but,
 
For me that day was an awakening.  I had breathed in a new life, beheld a vision of landscapes and beauty I had never before dared to consider.  It was a gift that you gave me.

And, Dear Friend, on that miserable birthday of yours... that's when I knew it was you.