There are perfect beautiful blue days, and sometimes blue, is in reference to depression, but this one was limitless

pure, simple, bright, and sweet.

And despite

my blisters and sleep deprivation

and cold

hanging onto me like an icicle

I felt that God had smiled on me

like the sun, winking through the pine trees.

I got ready for the hike

with my customary

three shots of espresso.

It was 4 AM

and I had gotten to sleep at 11 PM.

My best friend and I

were finally going on a hike up little Si.

And the woman of mystery I wanted to solve (but not really, because, who wants to solve a really great mystery and have it be done?)

was meeting us at the wrong location

but she wasn’t bothered by this, and played along.

“Dugh… we got her to come on a hike. We like her,” I said in my most primitive and unintelligent voice

Although, primitive people were able to survive in the wilderness

and I don’t know if I would trust my friend or myself

to do this.

He has a PhD in Mathematics and I have a Doctorate degree in Education,

but the skills required to live

have changed—Man’s desire to be with beautiful women

has not.

You know that you’re in a good group

when everybody is in the group

and me, the outsider

was snuggly inside.

We talked about life and death

adventure and dreams

and the dream girl (I was with) was getting more interesting

as we walked up the mountain. I didn’t think about it then, but I’m doing it now…

The dream can’t be caged

and that’s why I write it down.

Most memories are held together in photographs

or pinned neatly, behind glass

but they don’t contain any philosophy.

Only memories, which change

every time we think about them.

And the worst, most frightening thing

for me

would be

to look at something beautiful

through the eyes of a cynical old man

and say, “It was nothing.”

because it was something, to spend time with those beautiful women

on that perfect beautiful blue day.


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