Snow hiking

It snowed in West Virginia and I was there to see it. 

Sara made the invitation on Monday so I dropped everything on Wednesday and joined her with A1 and A2 for a roadtrip to Davis, West Virginia. A1 and I shared an Uber to A2's apartment in Ballston, then we drove the 3.5 hours West. There was a lovely cabin, fully furnished and stocked with a gas-burning fireplace and a hot tub. We rented snowshoes and hiked until dark on Wednesday night, then returned home and prepared dinner together and chatted, listening to Ella Fitzgerald. In the morning, the snow had begun, coming down in big pillow-y drifts. I heard it in my small, cold, bed next to the outside wall, the creaking and the muted shuffle as clumps fell to the ground. We ate breakfast, and hiked again. 

I've been a bit subdued ever since Pcat's visit. It was good to talk to him, touch him, to feel that he heard me, and to receive his kind messages afterwards. But there is something very difficult about looking back and seeing the destruction behind you. Like Lot's wife watching as everything in Gommorah burned, it paralyzes me and I stand stricken. I am once again reminded how deeply I love S and the pain of knowing I will never see him again, never feel what it is to be loved by him, knowing that he betrayed me because he was afraid for himself: it feels very sad. Besides this, I've been sad for San who feels such pain over the loss of her husband, it takes the breath from me and I long to alleviate her suffering. I worry that the worst is yet to come. 

I've been running and working out but it doesn't seem to be enough to pull me out of the slow-circling-of-the-drain. Visiting the mountains, hiking in the woods, feeling my heart race and my body move, and feeling the bite of snow on my face gave me a joy I haven't felt in a long time.