The rolling hills remind me of family. They are a space of peace. Where children gather in cabins. Families pans heat out the kitchen window into the green hills. Becoming part of the Earth. Another working piece of the clock that we don’t see but are a part of. We see our pets making claw marks on the kitchen floor. We see laundry falling out of the dryer and having to re-heat again. We see too many shoes in the entry doorway. But we just do. At the top of the mountain another world exists where time is a strict battle between survival and search. In our homes we want security and love. Maybe adventure can wait. For now I hold my kitten and watch the snow drift down the hills of the mountain. My strength which let’s me know we are still here. Even if my kitten claws my shoulder too many times. She is part of our process to keep growing. Maybe one day the hills will be different. Or maybe I will have 6 cats that lead me up the mountain. You never know until one day you feel it. And then you feel the mountain in your bones.