the grit under the fingernails from planting those starts, feels like the opposite of the mountain but it isn't, really. both are just… work, that demands everything you have and gives back something that isn't measured in money. a different kind of summit, maybe, the quiet satisfaction of watching something grow from almost nothing. feels like coming full circle, maybe? or just… finding a different way to climb. the ridge was quiet. not empty, just… less loud inside. like the echo finally found its way out and