Kelsie Everson

My first visit up Rock Canyon since the loss of my Little came with an unexpected gift. On a sunny Friday afternoon, the walk up the trail was unsurprisingly busy with college students and families. On our way back down the canyon, Aimee and I pulled off to the side where a large boulder sits, one that Little would often perch herself on top of. I often referred to her as my little mountain goat due to her propensity for rock hopping. We took a moment to sit where my little mountain goat would have been, and no sooner than we sat down the trail got quiet. I looked up on the ridge and for about ten solitary minutes, I was given this moment with a mountain goat. Only one person passed by the whole time. I don’t know if the universe really provides these kinds of moments or if we look for them because it provides a bit of comfort, but I’ll take it either way.

Being in nature with Little brought me indescribable joy, and I miss it on a level I also can’t relate. Those days and moments were sacred to me, and it’s been hard to find that same joy in nature this past year when there is something so obviously missing. But the miracle of having a quiet moment up the canyon with that mountain goat when the odds should have sent group after group, it was hard not to feel like something special was happening here. Yes, it was hard to sit in the loss, and being outside will never be quite the same. But this experience showed me nature still provides, and that I can find new meaning and peace in the outdoors.

Thank you @aimeeobs for being with me as a support and comfort on this journey that was sure to sting a little ❤️