West Tiger & Nook Trail, Issaquah

We start the hike cold: cold ears and cold arms and we walk in the shade and I stuff my fingers in my pockets and I think about mom like I always do when I wear her autumn fleece. This isn't going to be anything crazy, I warn Austin, just a walk in the woods, which he says is fine, probably better for his soccer knees--we haven't hiked together in months. But the elevation climb is moderate and steady, with Austin reminding me how to breathe, in through the nose and out through the mouth. A prescription to inhale fresh Pacific air.

All around us is peeling bark and textured shrooms like stepstools wound around shaggy trunks. We brush ferns with our bodies and sweep slugs from the trodden path and I inhale and inhale and squeeze Austin's hand. There's no summit, no view other than the forest, which unfolds to a fairyland of mossy boulders and a small cave about an hour in. We shoulder through the towering rocks, explore twists and turns. We passed quite a few people on the way up but now we're here alone, and I haven't noticed the distant highway because I've been listening to Austin say that this is what he loves, a gentle incline with gorgeous scenery. I've been imagining coming back but not necessarily here: I've been thinking of how Washington is a giant map of trails and how often and when we'll say, Yep, this made everything worth it.