With Millimeters Between #4
To the one in the valley,
Once the fog clears, we’ll see how remarkable this road is. With its curves, steady incline, unruly edges full of knotted roots and broken branches – this road will be a favorite of mine. I’ll see your brow furrowing, your lip curling. Who would have favorite roads? What makes this one so special?
It’s hidden, tucked away where it sometimes feels like I might be the only one who knows of it. Welcome to the club.
The canopy covers the sky but look over to your right, between these wide trunks with shredded bark and you’ll see it, miles of lowlands and high hills. They’ll capture the heat of afternoon glow and shimmer a chlorophylled sea of needles and leaves. You will see how the trees bend and breathe against one another. You’ll hear it when we drive quietly, listening to this music that trails out behind us.
In that darkness though, my tinted headlights will do little to prove its beauty. Will it frighten you? These shadows cruelly paint two-dimensional monsters on the cracked cloudy pavement before it transforms to worn caverns of muck under our slick tires. I’ll promise there isn’t anything there. Look up – the moon’s light will make those monsters scurry away.
When you hold my hand in this silver gleam, outlines of the towering foliage will splash across our skin to coat us with ethereal protection. As long as you and I hold on tight, we’ll be okay. We’ll twist up and up this path sewn with worn wood and mossy threads. Believe me, we’ll reach the top soon.
What a view that will be. We’ll stop, shutting off the engine and our over-exhausted minds. Stepping out onto dusty gravel that stretches on for miles until the crumbling cliff, you will be in the middle of a nameless rock quarry with a colossal canvas of glittering light through the sky’s evolving blackness.
Eclipsed tree tips flanking us will sway in a breeze that feels crisp and unknown. I’ll watch you closely as you take that first stuttered inhale – sharp and burnt – as you step toward the edge of this slick, sudden mountain.
Perhaps I’ll come closer to you, sliding by so lightly that our shoulders touch but we’re unable to notice. Could we bear to pull our gaze away from this painted heaven?
Count all the grey freckles on the moon’s face with me. I’ll only see the blushing tip of your nose, your chin, before the darkness swallows your expression. Maybe I’ll feel it instead. I will see this scene through you – has it always been this beautiful?
I’d like to see you finally look at me as I do you. You’ll carefully turn your face toward me. The sheen of your gaze glistening in the dark becomes visible to my face bathing in the moon’s blue glow. We’ll be reflected, washed in something settling under skin that comes alive only where the air is thinner and lights are off.
I’ll smile, clasping my fingers around yours, spinning with you as we move in time with the wind, the celestial spotlight on us for an audience of only the conifers. We’ll embrace in this locked dance with no beginning nor end. We will have always been here and not quite yet. I promise you – we’ll find our way up this mountain to hear the song it created for us.
How sweet that candied light will taste on our tongues once it comes.
the one who will reach for the mountain
