Went for a 9 mile hike in the Muir Woods last week. That’s the stand of redwoods near San Francisco that makes tourists from all over the world crane their necks and pull out their cameras. It’s like the Tower of Babel with so many languages going on all at once. Since it has been raining a lot, the creeks are gushing and rivulets of water leak from the soil where the hiking trails have been cut into the hillsides. Once I got to the straight uphill part, I got past the tourists and the strolling lovers. Then it became altogether glorious.
I go there when I need to escape, when I need to think, when I need to “talk” to the trees. I have a secret spot and after communing with nature for a half hour, I started to reflect on how my life is changing when my daughter leaves for college in August. Nothing has turned out as I planned when I was a starry-eyed girl. In many ways, it’s been better. But in no way is it similar to my “Goals List”, not even the one I wrote out when I got divorced in 1995. Having a house burn down is in some ways a wonderful opportunity to take stock of what’s really important – and what isn’t. Objects lose their value for the most part, because nothing has history anymore. For a while, since 53 houses burned down along with mine in the Malibu wildfire, the neighbors would joke with one another, “Hey, I love your shirt. Is that new?” Of course it was. Everything was new.
I look at the little tiny sprouting redwoods and wonder who, if anyone, in 200 years will be sitting in this same spot looking at them.