I remember being 16, 17, when finally we
escaped parents and oftentimes supervision, and would find ourselves in some
car, with friends, on a warm bright day somewhere we weren't supposed to be,
doing things we weren't supposed to do, which just so happened to be the things
we most wanted to do, because they were all filled to the brim with new and
surprise endings and open and possible and as far away from the travesty of our
upbringing as they could be.
I remember getting everyone to stop the car so I could get out and pee, and I'd step into the roadside woods of wherever we were- some hilly shaded road far out in the country in Connecticut, or some measured highway in New York as we approached the city,
and I'd watch as we all fanned out, exploring and wondering at the sheer amazement of the leaves and small places of brackish waters and new ferns making their way up into the world
and we would all get lost like that for awhile , til somebody got hungry or wondered if someone left the keys in the car
and we'd untangle our long hair from brambles , find the shoes we'd escaped from ,
as we caught sight of each other climbing back out of the woods, grinning happily at each other,
at the shared conviction that no matter how messed up we knew ourselves to be, we would create a life of meaning and creation
and goodness and hope.
No comments:
Post a Comment