Munra

You will only find home a handful of times in your life, and mostly in the refuge of reminiscence. Home was in a black berry bush fort, where I stockpiled wild apples in case I must run away. It was in an empty classroom where I cried when I had nowhere else to go. It was in a lover, who kept me safe in this scary world. Further into my fundamentals, their role becomes clear. My path is lit as I run into darkness. We are molded by the fleeting past which determines our mind’s orientation. Our hearts must be open to find this solace, but after the bliss of childhood leaves our soul, home becomes illusive.

A home is sustained by your relationship. If that crumbles, it drifts into the past. Relationships grow but need mutual effort. I protected my briar patch home from the intruding vines, wild animals, and time, for they sought my sweet apples and living room space. My classroom cries were fostered by the uncomfortable situations I was thrust into and continued to be necessary as my social panic cripped me. My loving relationship only flourished until strenuous circumstances ripped apart our beautiful two-way street. As soon as effort and capacity dwindle on either side, the relationship must grow or collapse.

When effort and growth advance, the relationship moves forward. We snuggle further into the comforts of our home. The idiosyncrasies become clear and home becomes predictable while the harsh howl of chaos rattles the windows. My bicycle and I have such a relationship, and we take care of each other. Thousands of hours behind my bars has blossomed into wicked adrenaline kicks and a lifetime of exploration, pushing my limits and fear. I continue to master the machine as these two wheels bring me home.

Home can be in an idea, philosophy, a way of looking at the world. Genesis can occur spontaneously through reality shifting moments. Munra was my moment. My high school friends and I climbed this peak in the dark, to greet the sunset at the top. At sixteen we were invincible, and the no fall pitches did not shake us. (After the Eagle Creek fire, the trail was left to God. It got worse). Treacherous to some, thrilling for us. Between the journey and the sweeping view, I realized how I wanted to spend the rest of my life: summiting mountains. Here is my final home.