88. Cardboard (2016)

I remember when Skyrim first came out. It was the winter of 2011 and my best friend was on the other end of Xbox Live. I was amazed that you could summit any mountain peak that you saw in the game. You could point to a peak in the distance, say, “There!” and run toward it. And I did. Over and over I picked a peak to climb, reaching the pinnacle like some quest achieved. It’s not even a major part of the game. You don’t win anything for it.

I’m not as ambitious in real life, but I love to look. And as I felt the tightening of Stevie’s leash around my frigid and snow-spritzed hand I could look nowhere but up, toward the peak of what I think is Mount Olympus.

It looked like cardboard — like a backdrop painted for a movie by someone who knows exactly what they’re doing. And if that’s a metaphor for God or something, I almost didn’t do it intentionally.

The pink clouds floated — they floated! — as if climbing the shoulders of the mountain, a child on her father’s shoulders.

The sun was casting its farewell light on everything in my part of the world. It’s strange that something so large can still feel like cardboard.