things my mama told me.

sailing over hills & diving into valleys brought my ears stories that my 6 year old self forgot to tell me. all of them were what mama used to say.

when my left torn hiking boot dragged up to its tromper sister at summit, i started to remember some of those things mama used to say. you know? i think that's what fall always does to us. it sits us down & shuts us up, & tells us all that we've forgot.

like staring down on the aspen gangs flashing their colors and making us stay. mama always used to say when leaves make aspen gold & everything slows that i'll need my flannel coat. she used to say that when the leaves let go and the branches do too that we need to decide what we hope is letting go of us too. she used to say a lot of things, but i've always loved the way she spoke of those trees.

& when that hawk spiraled & linked talon with branch i remembered why mama always used to say the view's always sweetest from the top. she always used to say that it'd make us remember how small we really are, and that thinking you're too big might crumble all the rest. she used to say that the view from the top doesn't mean you deserve anything more, just that you understand most things better than the creatures who choose to stay below.

i remembered a lot of things mama used to say while i scoped magic spires and wanderlust peaks. the most important thing i think had to of been what mama always used to say fall meant. she used to always say fall means we should let our lungs grieve and let ourselves be naked; she always used to say autumn's telling us to shed the bad and love our losses. i think fall reminded me today of what mama used to say, and today's the day i really feel it.