The trail marker I finally got right

Spent two hours today resetting a weathered cedar post near the ridge loop. The old one had been leaning like a tired man, its paint flaked off and the arrow pointing nowhere. I drilled new holes, used a level for once—felt ridiculous doing it, but the angle was clean now, just a sliver of red against the moss. When I stepped back, the path felt different: not just marked, but remembered. Like someone had said, 'You’re still here.'