Her memories flowed
through gnarled evergreens and overripe huckleberry bushes; back to the dirt
roads of adolescence. To the night she scared herself while sneaking out under
the full moon. After calling a friend to meet further down the road but quickly
forgetting the transaction while using her cell as a flashlight, until their
voice came through louder. For nearly a minute she spun in circles checking the
shadows while trying not to breathe in hopes whatever animal had growled would
disappear. Then her name was yelled out the speaker and she jumped to reality.
An animal had not stalked her in the bramble. She was simply being ridiculous
falling prey to the night shadows. Soon enough the truck pulled up and she
squished into the middle, pulling her legs up so the stick shift could be
maneuvered.
“Do you have a cigarette?”
she asked impatiently.
“Sure. Do you have the
fifth?” the driver asked.
“Only mine! Ha! Thanks for
the smoke though.”
He was quite upset by this
and threatened to turn back, leave her in the ditch. Let her walk back and
sneak in through the kitchen window early. It took a while for her to retract
this statement and explain the vodka was for everyone to share. She knew he
wouldn’t turn around anyway. Not after turning onto the familiar gravel road
that curved up logging hills near Lake Roseiger. The truck sped around sharp
corners, veered close to the edge.
They bumped over ‘tank
traps’ set by loggers to keep out sneaky kids. Someone had already started
passing around beers. Everyone was trying not to spill as they awaited the
light of a friendly bonfire. The usual crowd would soon come into view and moods
would improve. Rather than anxiously debating who had booze, all would soon be
shared as people debated who to cuddle with under the night air.
The rest of the night fades out of focus as
quaint Northeast Portland houses dominate the horizon. Each walk down Ainsworth
has taken my mind on past journeys worlds away from the current cement
roads. A crunched beer can in the ditch
inspired numerous high school nights. On my next step leaves made their final
dance in the wind. My hair joined in the waltz as laughter surrounded me in a
crowded New Hampshire artist studio.
