Mountains

I’m sitting curled up on a porch. It isn’t my porch. But in this moment I feel ownership of it. There is the sound of waves crashing four blocks west of where I am cuddled. The fog is thick enough to coat all things with a chilly mist. And the mountain directly in front of me is barely visible under her cloak of weighty moisture. But I know she is there. I climbed her. I remember where it is she stands- even if, in this moment it would be easier to believe before me was…