When I get slower and you get older, we will hike the same mountain trail. For a brief time, your maturing youth will meet my declining years, and we will share the same experience as physical equals.
But we will see different things, in the still images our minds create. I'll compare the chortling brook to another long past. As you’ll see it with fresh eyes and hear it with virgin ears. I wish that mountain streams will always remind you of me, and that often in your life you will make the time to walk alongside a quiet stream.
Down the long, long path of your life, I pray, that it is the sounds of nature that will quiet your troubled soul. And you will find that the sunlight splashing by the timeless needles of the spruce will warm your heart.
And should voices be troubling and decisions unimaginable then kneel beside the chortling brook and listen for the echo of my voice. You will hear my gentle affirmation in the babble of the brook, my steadfast respect in the granite rock at your feet, and my nurturing love in all the nature that surrounds you.