7.22.14 - love letters from dad to mom
I’m starting to believe you can only truly enjoy a moment once it’s happened; that though it might seem good at the time, it becomes much more memorable after it’s over. Take the day these photographs were taken, for example. Me and the group of guys I was with woke up at 2 in the morning to climb a 2,000 incline in order to reach the top by sunrise. After stumbling out of our tents and packing up our gear, we made on our way. On the climb up, it’s easy to say that we weren’t having fun. It was raining, slippery, some of the guys were suffering from altitude sickness, and we found ourselves losing the trail. Moral was low, extremely low, but we somehow made it to the top. Upon reaching the top, we stopped, dropped our packs, and took in the view. Never had any of us seen such a sight; a storm over the peaks in the distance, the sun illuminating the clouds as it rose; it was truly a magical experience. But no matter how amazing it seemed at the time, some how, as I sit in my bed at 1 in the morning, it feels much more amazing, knowing that in about an hour from now last summer, a group of tired men would be getting up to hike to one of the most extraordinary sunrises any of us would have ever witnessed. Maybe it’s just me, or maybe there’s others out there that can agree, but I would give anything to relive this moment, no matter how uncomfortable it might have seemed to be in the beginning.
Same Place, Different Time