Tis-sa-ack
Crunch. The snow compacts underneath my boot with each step. Mist lingers in the meadow, hugging the half-melted snowmen and snow forts built by visitors days prior. Crunch. Crunch. I trudge through the untouched snow, a cleared walkway just two feet to my left. The air burns my lungs; I pull my scarf over my mouth and nose, protecting them from the frigid air. I stop in my tracks. The sky brightens; the sun is rising over Half Dome—or Tis-sa-ack, her native name. I smile up at the granite giant, feeling comfort in the presence of my home. An electric shuttle bus whirs by, the rush of hot air nearly pulls me down and brings me back to reality. I continue on my way, waving goodbye to Tis-sa-ack as I follow the path into the forest.
Yosemite Creek rages downstream, tumbling rocks on its way over the edge of the granite wall, creating Yosemite Falls. After a few weeks, the constant rushing of water becomes white noise. Campfire smoke swirls in the crisp mountain air and into my nostrils. I walk alongside the lush grass. I run my hands through the dewy weeds, the long strands tangling between my fingers. Steam rises from the top of Tis-sa-ack under the warm sunshine. I raise my hand to cover my eyes from the bright rays. Birds sing in the distance, saying good morning to each other. I skip down the path, calling out to Tis-sa-ack before I disappear out of sight.
Darkness consumes the valley. We settle onto blankets in the vast meadow, waiting for the show. A warm summer breeze whispers through pine trees and lifts fallen oak leaves from the ground, swirling them in the air and gently dropping them down to the earth again. We stargaze and enjoy the brightness of the Milky Way. Slowly, the full moon appears from behind Tis-sa-ack, and the stars begin to fade. We sing and dance beneath her shadow until we have no more breath. I murmur goodnight to Tis-sa-ack, and the moonlight guides me home.
Lightning lights up the sky. Thunder echoes; the valley walls amplify the noise. Tis-sa-ack hides behind storm clouds, so I set out to find her. Fallen leaves cover the path. I kick them to the side, splashing in the puddles they cover. Raindrops bounce off my shoulders while I march uphill towards Tis-sa-ack; soon, I am immersing myself in her power. The clouds sink lower and lower into the valley floor; Tis-sa-ack fights to be seen, and eventually gives into the storm. I wave one more goodbye to her before disappearing into the autumn rain.