Joanna Wilson
Each morning I get up just before dawn. At the trailhead, the beams of the summer sun reveal a morning mist that hangs in the cool air just above the adjacent ball fields. We like to be alone on the hiking trail in the morning; it means we won’t have to wear the masks we carry with us. We can breathe as freely and deeply as we want without fear of contagion from others. The footprints in the clay reveal crowds have passed in the time between our daily hikes. My acts of rebellion used to look much different.