L.L.D. – Bandages
Mt. Fuji is on my side, and it’s made of gauze.
As a child, I would mold mashed potato mountains of Everest and K-2. I would repel down in the summer, over the rocky spud terrain, and in the winter, I would grease my skis with butter and ride until nightfall. Soap and spoons would eventually wash the slopes away, but I always had another dinner. Another steak and another summit.
Years have past since I had an earth molded so good. But now, after my surgery, I have the biggest mountain in Japan on my side, and not even a tsunami can wash this mother clean.
Fuji-san takes 7 hours to climb, and took my doctor millions upon millions of years to shape with mounds of tape. Underneath, it is considered to have a low risk of eruption, but when I cough, I can feel the plates shift in position; I can feel the aged wear of tectonic movement.
I’m unable to sleep on my right side anymore, but I’m lucky enough that when the sun sets, I feel the final heat against my back, and the west of Japan nipping at my hind.
12,388 feet of gauze, and I feel like a child again, waiting to erupt.