It was just before dawn, our headlights cutting a slender line of sight down the dark, bumpy road. As we made our way through the thick forest of evergreen, my husband Chris held my hand in his. Mt. Katahdin, the tallest mountain in Maine, was concealed in the darkness beyond - waiting. Towering at a formidable 5,269 feet of pure, unforgiving granite, the name translates to “Great Mountain” in Abenaki: the language of the Wabanaki people, who believe this mountain to be the beginning of all life.
I don’t know that we came in search of the beginning of all life exactly. But on reflection, we did come searching - wanting for something lost and not yet found.
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