Northbound

I’d go somewhere upstate. Take a long drive in the early morning, the kind where the fog goes beyond the eye can see. I’d look out my window and see pine trees the entire way through. Tall, with burnt orange leaves. This must mean winter is coming. I wouldn’t be so sure of the seasons, or months, or even days of the week. I’d only know morning, afternoon and night. That’s all that would matter.

Eventually, I’d see a small cabin out in the distance. I’d arrive and immediately get the fire started, as here, it is always cold. Not the sort of cold that makes you suffer, but the sort of cold that gives you shivers and settles deep within your bones. I’d get the kettle going as well, as I’d have brought along a set of tea. Herbal to the right measure. I’d drink it sitting on the porch, looking out into all I left behind to be here.

I’d think of me. Another version of me, that is. But not for too long. I must not let my mind distract me from all I’ve come to learn here. I’d walk back in and take in the paintings on the wooden walls. Not quite enjoy them, but understand why they’re there. Much of my life feels like those paintings, but now it wouldn’t anymore.

I’d be far from all I’ve ever known, and it would hurt me just as much as it would heal me. I’d go down to the market to get fruits, meats and vegetables. The butcher would be the only person I’d speak to for weeks. I’d make a good dinner for myself, nicely plated with garnishes from my windowsill garden. I’d take a long shower. Sleep early to sleep in.

By late morning, I’d ski. Through tall mountains, through fresh snow. Sunlight on my face, and not a single thought in my mind. I’d give in to motion, to the quiet inside of it. After hours uncounted, I’d come back to the lodge. Take off my gear. Lay on the floor. Maybe remember where I am, maybe not. Whatever feels right in the moment.

Soon, I’d get the fire started again. Make tea. Think about it all. Have dinner. Shower. It would go on the same way throughout the entire winter.

By the end, I’d pack my things. Take a long drive back. Find myself somewhere between leaving and returning. Meet my worries on the interstate. Remember how it all goes. Make peace with it. Arrive. Wait for next winter to come.