ready.

"At a certain point you say to the woods, to the sea, to the mountains, the world, Now I am ready.” –Annie Dillard

The trail did not have her full attention. Work had a way of bugging her brain before and after hours. Was it not enough, she wondered, that they got her mind during? But she hated those ad-like phrases, encouraging outdoor-lovers to “leave life behind” and come adventure. Irresponsibility. That is what they were selling.

No, she thought, she had a job. She had to keep at it. Surely there was life that gave fresh-air freedom too. Maybe she needed to work for it. Most good things, you do.

When spring came she was ready. Boots unlaced at the door and hair braided for the hike. If the frogs were singing, she would be out there listening. If only she could leak out the other thoughts. If only the frogs were her only sound in those minutes.

And mountains never seemed so far as they did this time of year. Birds were the envy of her heart—to have wings, to go flapping into landscapes that made Hallmark cards cry. As a little girl she ran after them yelling, “don’t leave me behind!” As a woman she looked long and tried not to think the same thing.

She thought it.

Some do not hear the hills sing or streams whisper. Some hear but don’t have time to listen better. Some do though.

She would be one of the last some. Oh yes. Sure enough she’d work. But she’d work for the chance to listen—that was her decision. She’d work for time. Time to taste wind and to expedition. For the love of it, not the glory. Please.

And she would learn to silence the other sounds. She must.

The trail asked for more attention, for her own good. The trees agreed—let go. This was her finest adventure at present, if she could just enjoy it. She should be prepared, she mused, to revel in any quest before her—for life, it is now—and live ready to love it.