She is most at home in the mountains; most alive in the wilderness, and even though the aches in her arms and legs and the bone-deep weariness keep her from hiking more than a mile or two, yesterday we climbed over barbed-wire fences and waded through thorns and sagebrush all the way to the top to see the sunset and the river.
Halfway up she stopped and looked at me. She said, "This is a miracle right now, because my body can't climb this hill. But I'm climbing this hill."
She said, "This is my spirit taking over my body."
The sunset was slicing the hill in half: blue and gold. There was a chip of moon above our heads.
She said, "This is my spirit taking flight."