“This is JUST LIKE the Blair Witch Project!”
I didn’t need to hear that. At 6am. As I forced my forty-five-year-old limbs over the sheer rock cliff that is Breakneck Ridge. While wearing a headlamp. And following three women, one of whom makes her living by cutting up Barbies into dismembered jewelry that is coveted all over the planet.
We met on a Charleston stage. She set her sights on New York. And she moved. Met her husband. She grew. And made Cooper.
And I’m so proud of the person she’s become. Not that what I think matters. I’m just glad to know her. To call her my friend. To follow her into the dark up a rocky incline and experience a crisp sunrise.
I’ll never think of hiking in the dark without conjuring Breakneck Ridge. And headlamps. And sheer cliffs.
Ingredients for making memories.