Hiking Pocumtuck Ridge

2007

It’s Thursday morning after a snow storm. Almost the crack of dawn. My house empties early these days and I can’t bear the loneliness so I lace up my hiking boots, leash the dog and drive somewhere, anywhere, to walk away my blues.

It’s seven am and the sun is not yet above Pocumtuck Ridge. I park on Pine Nook Road and take the long way up to the ridge.

There’s about six inches of new snow. My dog goes ahead to spoil it so I won’t be culpable.

It’s beautiful light snow that sticks to branches in fluffy bunches, like flowers, as though overnight a miraculous bloom occurred. Winter is busting out all over.

The first part of this walk is an easy grade up. The snow’s not too deep to slow me down. I see a glow to the east, a lightness through the trees and feel like the sun and I might meet at the top of the ridge for a spectacular good morning.

When this small path dumps me onto the main path the walk gets a bit more serious. The grade is steep now and I find myself huffing steam. In good weather and bad this hike is hard work despite the fact that it’s such a short jaunt.

With the quiet snow filled woods all around me I remember my younger son Dom’s first year at the private school just down the hill from here. He started in September and in October they had a country fair. Dom invited his best friend Chris to join us at the fair.

Dom and Chris met at an alternative elementary school in town. Two odd men out as they came from typical families—a mom and dad that lived together, an older brother, cats and dogs.

When people say they “click” it’s hard to know exactly what they mean. Here’s how Dom told me he and Chris clicked. I think they were in first grade then. Dom said to me “I like Chris so much that if he were a girl I’d marry him!” Dom had that comfort and love for Chris. An interest in moving through time together.

When Dom was born his first year was a tough one. His sick ears took most of his hearing away, but after he had tubes put in the ears got better and he was basically a sturdy kid. He was happiest running around.

Chris had asthma from a young age that at times almost choked the life out of him. When we met him in kindergarten he knew—he had to know—how to care for his asthma. When he came to play with Dom he carried a bag with his asthma treatments in it. The bag stayed on our kitchen table and when he needed something he’d come and administer it himself.

I asked him once “What does it feel like when you have an asthma attack?” and he said, “I’m always certain that I’ll die.” From the mouth of babes…

Between events at the country fair Dom wanted to show Chris the spectacular view form the rock on Pocumtuck Ridge. They were both in sixth grade and though medicine had improved some Chris’ asthma was still a real threat and a real albatross. Caught up in the moment I forgot about the asthma and the hike’s steep ascent and up the hill we went.

I remember Chris then as a little paler than his peers. I never remember him gasping for breath or seeing his chest heave, but somehow this hike was work.

As we started up the hill Chris would walk a bit and then stop. We all stopped so he could catch his breath. He never asked to stop. We never asked why. We just did what we all needed to do to make it to the top.

As the grade got steeper we stopped more. I was grateful that we could get a car up here if necessary. Chris wasn’t using his inhaler, just common sense to stop and breathe as needed. Breathe and rest.

At one point I think I asked Chris if we should turn back and he shook his head no.

It took a while but we made it to the top. Those two boys, friends, stood at the edge of time there, the western part of Franklin County, Conway, Shelburne, the hills of New York opening before them like their future.

They stood there shoulder to shoulder, the same way they had walked here. I could see how that initial “click” had grown into a great strength the two shared.

We were there for just a moment and then we walked down again.

In his high school years Chris’ asthma came under better control and for the first time in his life he was able to play sports like golf and football. He was a leader on those teams. This last summer a figure in black leather zoomed up to our house on a black motorcycle. When the helmet came off there was Chris, his beautiful smile and a hope that Dom as home so they could visit.

I’m a great fan of resilience. I’m a survivor always pulling for the survivor. I’m a mom who remembers this kid named Chris who never said never and stays in my heart years down the road only to surface on an early spring morning, knee deep in snow just as I crest the ridge to meet sunrise. A spectacular good morning.