Mt Lassen, 1995
These were my boys and I was one of them. We were all each other’s best friends. We shattered each other, building confidences and telling one another the stories we believed about ourselves and the world, then inevitably re-formed. A unit that was unbreakable and also already fracturing along the lines of life.
We were delightedly foolish together. We built ludicrously large bonfires on the beach of the South Jetty, hiked with outdated maps deep into the Trinity Alps, trespassing on Hoopa tribal lands while we crisscrossed ridges and gulches that didn’t have names, ending up–miraculously–back on a road only minutes (not miles) from our car. We carried heavy, secret beer for miles and miles and drank it warm and fizzy. We slept in a row on the beach underneath all the stars in the universe, listening to the waves rolling from the across the entire sea and woke to find our car drifted to the axles in soft heavy sand. We were safe and free in the outdoors–the rivers and beaches and sprawling redwood forest. We recognized them and they remembered us. We marked time–the time we had no way of knowing was exquisite and irreplaceable–waiting to become grown-ups, to leave.We smoked weak joints and sang loud songs and flirted and talked and held on to each other when it became clear that everything was starting to drift apart. Continue reading “One Time When We Were Young”