Mountain Top

Mountain Top

I thought I would call someone tonight. A someone I met on top of that mountain a few years ago.

She picked up on the first ring.

“Who’s this?”

“Hey you, how’s it going?”

“You haven’t talked to me in three years. And now, out of the blue you call me to see how I am?”

“Well, yeah. Slow night here. So, yes, that’s why I’m calling.”

“I’m fine. How are you Mike?”

I glanced out the window. “Just fine. Looking down on the mountain we climbed those years ago. Good times.”

“Okay, I’ll bite. Where in the world are you?”

“In orbit. Right over North America as we speak. In a few moments we’ll pass over the Pacific Ocean then Asia. Where are you?”

Sherry hesitated for a few moments, or maybe the sat phone connection cut out.

“So you made your dream. Congrats. I’m sitting here binge-watching cooking shows.”

“What’s on the menu?” My last meal was mashed potatoes with bacon, green beans with garlic and mixed fruit. Not bad.

“Yogurt.” She paused for a moment, a bite of that slippery stuff? “Oh, and some Doritos.”

“You need to cook some better food.”

“You need to come down to earth and cook for me.”

We passed over India, the Himalayas. A big mountain in the way.

“Is that an invitation?”

“See you soon…”

The line went dead. I’m on my way.