You have no idea how much I've missed you. It's been a year now since I last saw you, and tonight's visit was bitterwseet: It was goodbye.
Me? Oh, I'm not going anywhere, but I hiked up to Bells Canyon tonight and saw up close the inevitable signs that winter is indeed coming and I needed to say goodbye. It's fall now, and beautiful. It's always been beautiful. From the orange tops of trees that flow down to the smooth waters, I will never shake the sight as long as I live. But before we know it the snow will fly and yes, even though you can still make this hike in the winter, I just don't. It's just not the same. I'm sure it's lovely, but it's like being with someone who truly lights up your whole world and whose heart beats with yours, and then having them taken away. No matter how beautiful the winter may be, it's not the same. You're not connected. It's an impostor.
I can't spend another winter pining for the warm weather. I can't lay in the blue sheets of my bed thinking about the summer. It doesn't mean I don't love you in the summer, Bells Canyon, it just means that I have made myself so very clear, vulnerable, and raw in the summer and yet winter will come. I have to look forward. It's not my choice but it has to be this way.
So I went to Bells Canyon tonight to say goodbye. I wanted to say a lot of things, but as I was making the hike watching the sun set, my mind turned to changes. Day to night. Summer to fall to winter. I can't control any of those things, but I can control what I do in each season, in each hour. I think I had lost sight of that a little, so as I've prepared for the inevitable winter goodbye I've resolved a few things: I'll not apologize for how my heart feels with you, I'll not apologize for hoping for summer days again, and I'll not blame the lake or trail or canyon for welcoming winter. But I have to stop waiting for the weather, or the skies, or outside influences, or even other people to dictate when I start living my dreams again (gardens, and flowers, and hikes, and fresh bread, and chocolates, and picnics with fancy mustard, and taking a year off together to see every small town and mountain hike and national park!) and I need to live them now. I need to live through the winter as if summer never comes again, because moving forward is the only way to be happy.
Maybe this is about more than just the short hike to Bells Canyon in Sandy I took tonight. But isn't that what mother nature is for? Isn't that what she does? She changes you. Having this area so close--right there in Sandy--it's almost a double-edged sword. Yes, it's so close, and you could be there in just a few minutes. But looking out to the granite cliffs, you imagine her, what she's doing, what's going on around her shores at any moment but you can't be there. So close. That changes you.
Goodbye, summer days! My hope now looks forward. So while I hope to take the hike to Bells Canyon in the spring, I know it may never happen. There's so much time between now and then, and who knows where I'd be if and when the weather warms. If you're ready, I trust you'd tell me, sweet lakey. But for now I've had to say my goodbye.