People always say that it hurts at night and apparently screaming into your pillow at 3am is the romantic equivalent of being heartbroken. But sometimes it’s 9am on a Tuesday morning and you’re standing at the kitchen bench waiting for the toast to pop up. And the smell of dusty sunlight and earl gray tea makes you miss him so much you don’t know what to do with your hands.
In seven days, we hiked 80 miles across an entire mountain range, climbed two 13ers, skinny-dipped in two alpine lakes and a river, I was the first person to summit Mt. Whitney on the 4th of July, and simultaneously we were the first people to witness sunrise on the entire Pacific coast. Summer has begun; adventure has been redefined.