I've been to the mountain, bathed in the river, drank from the fountain

I’m posting my big story over here on the family blog, and as you read you will notice I give a passing nod to Jack Daniels (for medicinal purposes only of course). We downed half the bottle the first night, even though I hate the taste of whisky, it did help us drop off to sleep. What luck that we had found the ABC store in the same shopping center as Blue Ridge outfitters that Saturday morning when we stopped in Charlottesville. At Blue Ridge we bought our “pocket rocket” a propane cooker, and both immediately commented the name sounded like a vibrator, and my girl spotted the liquor store as we were leaving the lot. When I ripped off my toenail, she fetched the bottle along with the first aide kit, but as fortune would have it, we used antibiotic ointment for external application, sour mash for the wave of pain. She needed a bit too for her ankle and the nerve to doctor my dainty toe, recently pedicured and gushing blood. I am embarrassed to tell you that shortly after those first swigs for the toe incident, I dropped the bottle on the rocks and broke it to smithereens. Having no liquid courage and still being sober enough to drive, that break was probably the deciding factor in our decision to get out that night.

I wrote these words Friday morning and am putting them here so you will understand the state of mind she was in when she got home.

If ever a child needed mothering, my girl does now. She’s like a bird with a broken wing, frantic and struggling, unable to deal with the loss of the blue sky. For the first time that I can remember she is not where she wants to be with her life, but my lord, she is where she needs to be. Tomorrow we go to the mountain, where I believe I can touch her heart and free her of some of this burden.

Sunday when she rose we drank mimosas, played dance music, and had more fun cleaning the house than most people do at a party. She is almost all sunshine again, and while I know the shadow is still there, the mountain worked its magic on us both. Our bodies are battered and sore, but our souls are still standing firmly on the ridgeline of Old Rag, wild and free.