I follow the river’s edge as it curves around the base of the mountain. Looking up, I can see the snow peaked caps sitting so majestically on the mountains.
With each step I take, I know I am closer to heaven. I will not sit home and wait to die! I am moving forward, and when I take my last breath, heaven will greet me where I rest my head.
Who are they to tell me I only have six months to live? They are not God! Packing everything I need in this small pack, that rests upon my back, I will return to my meager beginning.
Give me fresh mountain air verses the confines of a stifling, sterile room, with its pristine white sheets.
I do not need the comfort of a pillow, when I have the soft grass to lay my head. I do not need the bright lights when I have the sun. I do not need a god that sits within the nicely decorated chapel, when I have him in my heart.
Should I not wake, I shall give this shell of a body, back to nature. I will not be there, I will have moved on to a place that others have traveled.
I have heard the call, and yes… I am going home.