The doors open to the truck. I grab the lever in the bottom right to let me out of the backseat and step onto the gravel. The three of us walk along the path created by the footsteps of previous adventurers—Dom the leader, me in the middle, and Brandon as the caboose. We trek over one hill, through some bushes, over another hill and finally to our destination.
A permanent tent lies at the bottom of the hill covered with a blue tarp angled around a tree. Beer caps hammered in by previous campers snake up the tree, giving it flimsy coat of armor seven feet up its trunk. Memories—beautiful, yet destructive.
We wait for Amber and Nick to arrive. Brandon crosses the two-feet-deep water in search of a walking stick but finds broken glass bottles sitting under the water. With disgust all over his face, he reaches under the water to grab Read more