My Everest
Friday, September 4th, 2009Every time my eyes touch a great body of literary work, I catch a glimpse of the mountain’s summit, the mountain I am climbing.
For a moment, I will be lost in awe, consumed by its beauty. Until it sinks in. A realisation that I am nowhere close to where I need to be. That the journey forward will not be an easy one.
My heart, that just moments ago felt uplifted, light as a feather lost in a warm wind current, suddenly weighs as heavy as my snow boots. Everything feels heavy. My jacket, my gloves, my skin. With every step I take forward, the white powder beneath my feet crumbles and pulls me back half a stride. And the wind that was on my back, in my sails, have turned around to confront me. The peak that towers over me feels untouchable, unreachable and forever away. I avert my eyes back to the ground and concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other, knowing deep inside that each laboured step brings me closer to my prize, to my Everest.
