My story begins with a crash. Or maybe a year of crashes that culminated in the biggie. Two hundred feet down a ravine, way, way out in the woods, on a big beast of a machine, of all things. Not anything I’d typically be found on. But that afternoon I was. Two days after Thanksgiving, and one day after our 10th anniversary. With a nine-year-old on the back. Who was able to jump off at the very beginning of the fall. And I cannot express my gratitude to the universe for that. I ended up broken, at the bottom of the hill, requiring Frank & Heather, along with a bunch of emts to evacuate me with ropes and pulleys, then a 6-wheeler to get back out the trail, to an ambulance and then a helicopter to be air lifted to the hospital.
The last month has found me healing. Four smashed ribs, crushed arm and leg, and a weird fear of being on the edge. Funny it all happened at the holidays. Right after an uneventful Thanksgiving. And the accident brought family I had not spend an extended amount of time with in years. Such a time of reflection, rest, reading, writing. In some ways, what a gift. But, I want to heal. To begin to play and move again. Tomorrow I start physical therapy.
So… this is where my story begins. And a record of my journey….
Beauty Mountain 