The River at Night

What did the mountains care about our plan to climb them, rafting the waters that divided them? They had eternity before us, and eternity after us. We were nothing to them.

The fact is, I’m a middle-aged woman who should have middle-aged concerns, but I don’t. Fear feels quaint somehow. I just don’t have any these days. Now when I swim, I feel powerful and sleek and swift. I delight in my mass, in all that water I displace. I am this joyous creature plunging into my element: water. What difference does it make how old I am or what jeans I can fit into or how fast my roots come in? My aging body, my dull job. I mean, really, who cares? I’m

The world we know is dwarfed by the worlds we don't. Why not explore them all? Being out there in the wilderness, you have no idea what'll happen, really. It could be just you and this gorgeous night sky, or maybe you are surfing and some big ass wave comes at you, and if you don't ride that sucker, it'll put you under and have you for lunch, or you might turn a corner on a hike and there's some beautiful deer and her little fawn-- now that has meaning, all of those things, and I need more of that and less of trying to make money so I can pay bills to live in a way I just don't care about anymore.

it. We hold on forever, choking the life out of the thing we must have. My terror of being alone had one result: I was alone.

There was clearly felt the presence of a force not bound to be kind to man. It was a place of heathenism and superstitious rites, to be inhabited by men nearer of kin to the rocks and to wild animals than we. —HENRY DAVID THOREAU

Looking back, I equate this stage of enjoying the wilderness with the second glass of wine. Everything is lighter; you can see the funny side of disaster. But things rarely improve with the third, they get dangerous with the fourth, and you better pray to God someone is around to scoop you off the floor after that. It was our second day in the woods, and we were days away from home.

It’s white-water rafting. It’s got risks. You can’t have a piece of the wild and not go out in the wild. You can watch it on TV from your cozy chair, you can hear about it from your friends, but there’s nothing like actually being on a river and showing it who’s boss.

But there had always been us, bound by invisible golden thread the fifty-one weeks a year we were apart. Tied in a golden bow the week we spent together. On the surface it might have been about fun or feeling glamorous or exploring someplace new, but when the world, including our own families, got us down or turned its back on us, we were our own family. Dysfunctional in our own female-friendship way; but our bonds were unbreakable.

There’s nothing wrong with a little fear. Keeps you sharp.

We steer into the rapids, not away from them, and that's going to feel weird, but that's how we get through them.

one last latte.” Sandra did her best to hold on to NPR, but we lost even that around Lewiston.

I’m dying of boredom tweeting about ankle support and bubble soles and how the right sneaker can make your life worth living.” “I spend my day making photos of flank steak look juicy.” “So you know, then, what we’re up against.

Through all this, my cat, Ziggy, snored on, all eighteen pounds of him slung across my feet like a sack of warm sand. As I slid out from under him, he gave me this look, a mix of How dare you and What the hell are you doing, it’s just past five and we usually sleep till at least six thirty. When I reached down to scratch his head, he gave my hand an uncharacteristic swat of his hefty paw, claws in evidence. I snapped my hand back and sat up, regarded him. Saw the lion in him clearly.

The world we know is dwarfed by the worlds we don’t. Why not explore them all?

The view stunned me, and I gasped. I don't know why I was surprised to find such beauty. p. 74

I’d learned through experience that kids don’t think it’s cute or even interesting—who can blame them?—that you happen to be a dinosaur. It frankly scores you no points at all. I