cool, clear water

There is a mountain in the White Mountains of New Hampshire named Mount Chocorua. I climbed it any number of times when I was younger – with friends and with girlfriends. About six people immediately come to mind, and at least three are no longer here with us. On this green, rocky, and watery planet. One of those girlfriends and two of those male friends. It’s likely the remaining two girlfriends wouldn’t have any interest in me these days – we dance in and out of each others’ lives, right – and the gentleman is a fellow writer and Salem State College graduate, and I heard from him just a day or two ago.

I got to thinking about Mount Chocorua earlier, 2:30-ish or something, because I realized I’d been filling my mind with truly useless and junky and heart-achy thoughts before having a “Bang!!” moment. An “Enough” reminder. And there came waltzing in that lovely, pink-crested mountain just off Route 16 way up in New Hampshire, and specifically the taste of the cold, clear water running down in forest brooks from snow melt. A taste way beyond tongue and lips and throat. Shockingly refreshing. So rewarding. Yeah – Moments of just this. Just this is pretty great.

There’s a road through the White Mountains of New Hampshire called the Kancamagus Highway, which offers a back-door entry to and up Mount Chocorua, and it’s a very special road. Special like it’s other funny-named neighbor slightly south, Lake Winnipesaukee.

It’s funny what shows up on a Tuesday morning, splashing out from a maelstrom of rather silly suffering.