The Forest

This is a creative writing piece for my class senior year about the first time Jon and I saw the forest on our day of adventuring.

From atop a short yet steep hill, a stretch of open, barren land stretching from one knoll to the next is the only thing separating one from the edge of humanity’s civilized world and the peaceful paradise bathed in sunlight and the shade of tall tress. Walking across the grassless earth, the next hill becomes clearer. Rocks decorate the brown dirt, a small stream of water gurgling down and passing over the speckled granite chunks. The top of the next hill brings the destination into view, the forest not shrouded by the usual smog of the lower valley. To the left lays a seemingly dangerous quarry of gray and white rock, the most common of its kind found often in backyards and park playgrounds. On the right, a long and winding worn dirt path heads in the opposite direction of the valley of stones, snaking closely by the mountainside and then returning to its original straight-line direction. A chain-link cage, obviously man-made, protects a pipe and the raging water that flows through it, the furious stream echoing through the mountain canyon. Ahead on the trail, a weeping willow sits undisturbed by the light afternoon breeze, beckoning weary travelers to take refuge in its cool foliage. Hiking past the giant tree, the entrance of the forest becomes visible, and as one makes the final strides toward the calm and cool woods, the breeze begins to die down until it is almost nothing but a faint whisper upon the leaves. Almost immediately in one swift gust, a horde of strange insects descends upon you, blinding you from your line of sight and landing on various parts of your skin, causing one of the worst forms of irritation. The quiet and steady sound of the delicately flowing stream echoes through the empty woodland, filling one with a sense of calm that only nature can provide. The sun overhead is all but blocked out completely by the various branches of leaves that are just barely starting to turn in preparation for the autumn season. The light bouncing off creates the subtle illusion the branches are on fire while still maintaining their natural radiance and beauty. A log, suspended from two trees by unraveling yellow twine on both sides, swings slightly over fallen brown leaves, enticing the inner child to skip over and hop on to relive days past. An old net attached to a tree hangs just above conveniently paced metal spikes, almost looking like a man-made trap set to catch someone’s prey. Past this stands a crumbling stone bridge, dating back farther than anyone really knows. The once strong viaduct, now rusting with age, leads over the small stream, and when the slippery rocks are climbed, an old car riddled with bullets resting on the other side becomes discernible, along with the rest of the forest. Inhaling deeply, the sweet scent of the all-season flowers overwhelms the senses, and for the first time, the setting sun becomes apparent through the vegetation above. Only the sounds of the trickling water, the faint buzzing of insects, and the serene quiet of nature itself fill the ears, and a state of tranquility is reached. All of this makes the long hike up under the hot searing sun worthwhile, and perhaps the most rewarding is the view from atop that small hill after night has fallen and the lights of the city twinkle below.

23 October 2003

Reflection

A gaze upon the sky by innocent eyes yearning to discover the universe’s great truths. It seems so long ago as Father Time pushes everything and everyone forward. The grass was soft and itchy, and the satellites twinkled above in the cool air. My mom called me inside, but I begged for a few more minutes. He was the only one I could beg for more time with, and he always would be. As usual, it was granted. We continued to stare, conversation unnecessary. The other’s company was most important. Many evenings passed in this fashion before we reluctantly said goodbye. He would leave for his house ten minutes away, and I would watch from my door until he was down the street. Much of our free time was spent with each other, and it still remains one of the most peaceful times in my life.

He was my best friend whether by accident or by fate. As symbolic as it was literal, he made me take that leap of faith with him on the steps during recess. Together we started a journey that would shape not only our teenage years but the rest of our lives. He would become the one I couldn’t wait to see, the one I would do anything for, even cheat and commit academic dishonesty. I, the straight A valedictorian, put his name on my work so he would graduate with me. One summer that is still clear in my mind, I watched him cross the grass from the shade of our meeting tree. Perhaps a cliché, I found myself grinning so dumbly that I had to look away.

I have always been a critic of teenage love because teens know nothing of the real world. What life have they experienced to understand that emotion? Still, I feel I must say I was perhaps the biggest hypocrite. I always cared for him, but the true way I felt was deeper than friendship, perhaps even that something more. I did love him, and what ever that meant never mattered. He knew and I knew what it was.

He was my best friend. He saved me, made me jump from that step. We grew up together, went on a journey of our dreams and imaginations, and even wrote a thousand page story. He showed me anime and trance, what a friend could be, this emotion that I still cannot describe. Did I love him? Do I miss him? The answer to both is yes. Even though life has pulled us onto separate paths, those memories and experiences mean more than that. Life is a journey, and your companions will change whether by choice or necessity. But I would be less prepared for that journey had he not made me take that leap those years ago. For that I will always be thankful, even if I never tell him

How Odd

So...the world is full of coincidences. Last year around this time I was stocking some candy on one of the check stands, and an older lady asked if I was open. I said no, sorry. Then she looked at me and asked, "Christie?" And my response was to think if I should know her. It was Mrs. Brown! Jon, Jeanine, and I met her when we were 13 playing the Ouija board one day during spring break. She asked about Jon and how he was doing and was glad to know I was well. I cannot believe she remembered us for so long. When I saw Jon a few weeks, I told him, and he was surprised, too. She didn't ask about Jeanine, so I wonder why she only remembers us. I see her at the store a lot still. I sold her some lotto tickets tonight, and I saw her at Walmat on Tuesday when I was with my mom returning something. We met her eight years ago. Crazy.

Then a few weeks ago I find out my neighbor for six years and also a customer at the store is the mother-in-law of my history professor from last semester. She's lived here for about as long as we have. I saw her at Ralphs in December, and we were all ,"We were never here..." I was getting into my car, and she just said hi, thinking I was familiar. Then we realized where we knew each other from. I was going back to work from my lunch I think two weeks ago, and she walks into the street and stops me. That was when we found out we were neighbors. Another customer lives just down the street near the mailboxes. My brother bought goped parts from her EMT son. Small world.

Forgot what I was looking for

Do you have something that you really, really want? You're a hundred percent sure it is worth it and think about it when ever you get a chance? You ever have a really good week where that thing keeps you motivated? Then the next week it all goes south for not reason at all? You're making yourself be afraid and unsure for no reason, and it's killing not only your mood but that nice feeling you were having. It sucks, and you don't know why you keep killing that for yourself. You're tired of the status quo and are ready to move on towards that thing. The only thing holding you back is you. When nothing else should matter, you let that fear of the unknown muck everything around until you no longer are sure of what you want. And you want to run and break free and just do something to express this frustration or to move yourself closer to that goal, anything to feel better and get out of this shackled existence you've forced upon yourself. What makes it worse is that it is no one's doing but your own. And you're like goddammit. Everything sucks, but it's your fault. Things were so much better in high school, and that dream and calling were so much easier to embrace. It was a fanciful dream that I guess I am still reluctant to admit was false all along. I even think I figured out why it is hard for me to connect to little kids. It's because of my own childhood. Last week felt so much better. What is up with this week, man? It sucks.