i think i have a new sit-spot. this is the first new place i’ve felt held by in a long time. it’s at the base of a tree whose trunk is crooked like my spine, both of us taking on unnatural s-shapes before straightening out all the way to the top. there is an inviting tuft of soft moss spread out before it. a low wall of pine saplings and azaleas curls around it. 

i sit on the moss with my back pressed against the tree’s bark. directly in front of my view is a holly with berries. further beyond is a thicket of rhododendrons that shield this spot from the nearby trail. their motherly presence is comforting. i watch the trees above sway and am curious what this view looks like in the summer. in the winter, this spot is surrounded by evergreens. when i’m here, i don’t feel the absence of life that i usually do at this time of year.

so many of my sit-spots have become lost or inaccessible since the hurricane. the one near the creek at my house was decimated in the landslide. visiting the mossy quartz requires me to sneak past the crew working, and the mood there has shifted to something unfamiliar anyways. the spot off the parkway with my ancient trees is still closed. god, i feel sick when i imagine the state of the biggest one whose branches stretched parallel to the landscape, leaning over the slope of the hill. i would climb it and lay on its thickest branch and write. i am still awaiting news on the dead tree on the parkway but i don’t see how it could have survived at this point. the the top of the linville falls trail may have opened up by now. i do have the grove of table mountain pines on the cliff, but i have to drive through a lot of destruction to get to it.

finding a new sit-spot should be hopeful, a good sign, but it doesn’t feel that way. it just highlights how much i’ve lost. it’s like that saying: one step forward, two steps back. maybe i’m fine with that, though. maybe i should be less concerned with walking forward into the unknown and more about finding my place right here, learning all the ways these mountains have changed. maybe the trick is to go backwards, to root deeper and understand this landscape like an aging body.