Weaves in Irises

I was never skilled at climbing down things. My vision didn't permit me with such talent as depth perception thus making slope grade near impossible to determine. Instead, I use nearly all of my body to climb up. Being able to grab hold of rocks and projecting myself forward has always made me feel more safe.
The first place I led him while we hiked was up. I went through some trees and grabbed onto some stones and miraculously, after my panic attack at a stone, we sat at the highest stone on the mountain.
Sadly, said stone was no where close to the valley we were originally looking for.
The sunlight was hot. I could feel my feet sweating where my tennis shoes lost their mesh and acquired poly-plastic logos. He was hot. His pants were not meant for the weather making them radiate their own form of heat. Luckily, my water managed to maintain some chill. But I still was panting from my panic as we sat gazing at the trees ahead.
We were nearly on top of the rock where I refused to move overlooking the curvature of one slope falling into the second.
"Why don't you feel pretty?"

"I don't know. I see other girls and the way their clothes fit. Then I realize I don't look like that and sometimes I wish I did."

"You know, you are beautiful."

"No." That fell out like the ground under me did. "I know I am but I still see the fat kid I once was."

"I guess. I never had childhood obesity."

"You're lucky."

"Man, I feel like crying."

"About your father?"

"Everything."

"You shouldn't do something you don't have your heart in. There is no point is subsiding to a position if you don't want it. This is your life and you should be free to make the decisions you are comfortable with. He won't suffer without you. Your father is a grown man and can save his own business."

"I know." But my voice called my own bluff.

"Let it out."

"No. I don't want to. Everything is too beautiful."

The trees were truly beautiful. The rocks under us were covered in their own calico coat with moss from the rains prior but the dirt at the edges of our sneakers was a pale yellow from the sun roasting away any moisture. But this vibrant reaction left the ground shining into my glasses leaving the trees across our view juicier. 

Despite the devastation the Pine Beetle caused to the Colorado Rockies, our mountainside was luscious green. The waves of light green flowing into olives swayed along the mountain. There was one spot where the trees broke up into a patch of sun-roasted gravel. The inner fat kid of mine would have sighed and pointed out a list of natural disasters that could have caused the balding. But, the size six girl watched the golden gravel pour through the tree trunks with promises of fortune.

He is truly lucky. He was blessed with a mountain home far from where we sat with different trees and gravel texture. His father didn't drink and his mother was settled in a nonprofit company making enough money to support him and his sister. He has a job that allows him to take me out and support his freedom.

But sitting with him and having his heat radiate onto my skin, leaving his sloppy lip marks coated with cinnamon along my neck, staring into hazel eyes, I was reminded that I was damn lucky. I am lucky to have a choice of taking a career or building one. I am lucky to have a mother who worries about me when I might not. My father installed character into me and a gracious host. I have two jobs with a few months' rent saved up in the bank.

The gold falling from the gravel are the choices we have. In Israel, unless you claim to be an orthodox Jew  and praying for the soldiers, you are forced to enroll in military service. That is a choice we are blessed to have but take for granted. The freedom of creating a career or taking one is something many places still don't allow because of their economic situation and even religion. All we need to do is want. There is only one life labeled as the name found on your birth certificate and why spend it taking choices that cause us discomfort? His pants were a choice of comfort and my were the soft when we rested. Bless the body for letting us be able to be.

"I want to be out there, across the plain."

"I want to be where the spiders crawl."