I began my Days of Hilda on June 10, 2012 when one my little sisters died. She was forty-two. My little sister was named Elizabeth, went by Libby, but often called herself Hilda, Hilda Vagabond, if she was being formal. Libby was brilliant and a fool, she loved hard and when she hated it was hard, also. She never forgot a birthday, she adored Christmas, and she knew the world was amazing. Hilda was hilarious, smart, steel and compassionate.
Days of Hilda are days of contemplation, of sentences, of remembering. You can do all these activities on a mountain bike as long as you’re wearing a helmet.