In the midst of up-falling snow and age-old bent trees, with a mile up to go, I remembered what I promised myself months back. I will find what dark cave has hidden my strength. I've become jumpy and shell-bound, frightened. My dearest trees, let your friends the rocks pierce deep to my soul this time. Find me and tell me, "Strength," on every trail.

This piece was written the night after one of the most beautiful hikes I've ever taken in my life. My boyfriend, my cousin, a good friend, and I hiked two miles up steep Appalachian mountains up to West Virginia's Seneca Rocks. The Rocks are an ancient outcropping 900 feet above stream level. Closer to the ground are smaller pieces of the giant rock which have fallen over the centuries. We were surrounded by rocks as we climbed the mountain, getting closer and closer to the biggest, "Mother" rock. As we climbed, I was reminded of a promise I'd made myself months earlier: I would be stronger. I wanted to reach deep within to find out what "strength" actually means to my own character. As I hiked, the rocks reminded me of that promise I'd made. I resolved, at the summit, to keep discovering what that word means. Here, in the new year, I am prepared to discover what piece of the meaning of strength lies around each corner.