The clock said 6 a.m. The house was dark and quiet. I slipped out of bed to the smell of freshly brewed coffee coming from the kitchen. I looked out the window. No rain. A cool breeze blew in, a remnant of the passing storm. I sipped my coffee. It was a good day to break in my boots. I laced them up and headed out the door.
It’s not often that the desert is humid, so the air was uncharacteristically thick and heavy; permeated with the pungent smell of earth and vegetation. The sun struggled to break through the clouds, but break through it did, leaving warm kisses across the land. With views like this, I could have hiked in ski boots and would still have enjoyed it.
It’s not about how long you live, but how well you live.