climbing your way out

N called sometime after 1 am. And things began the way they always do.
I need you.
He said as plainly as we’d just spoken yesterday.
And even through the years that have opened up between us, the phrase immediately produced his image. Dangling far below at the end of my rope as we ascended out and up. Hard rock in every direction. His voice shouting my name. Telling me to keep going. The only way is up. He’d crow.

maybe hiking – climbing – is a metaphor
for something

He began wrapping me up in the planning details of his latest trip. An excitement that I had forgotten at one time always existed in his voice. And I realized that most people don’t appreciate any specific sensuousness with words like: precipice, carabiner, belay, rappel, free rope, peak, jamb.

Knowing every time that we might lose our footing – fall and die. Maybe that’s what made it good. That there wasn’t any room to think about god or love – sex or words. Just the pressure to find the next place to lock in. To keep moving forward. Stand at the top and feel alive.

And as he talked, I thought about the times we made lists of perfect partners. And I said, I’m not sure why I ever trusted you with my life. He reminded me what he sees:

I can carry my own body weight.
I have a large threshold for pain.
I have a loud mouth.
I know when to lead.
I know when I’m not the leader.
I can function for days without sleep.
I know basic first aid.
I hardly ever stop.

And so I breathed deeply. An hour and a half of him talking about mountains and climbs and sweet backbreaking work. I just held my head in my hands and said –

I’m not that strong any more.

I live in a place without mountains.