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Missing Wreckage

Exploring we will go

By AmandaPublished 3 years ago 4 min read
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Missing Wreckage
Photo by Cristina Anne Costello on Unsplash

I grew up in southern California in the late 1970s. As a kid back then, playing with friends meant being outside and using your imagination. We would have bike races, climb trees, eat fruit right from the branches, and play in the mud.

Like most children back then, we played with any kid who lived within walking distance from our home. If a kid was outside and up for a game, they were our friend. But my sister and I did have our favorites, like the set of twins that lived down the street from my family, Patty and Peggy. The two of them were actually friends with my older sister, but they were always kind enough to let me play with them whenever we got together.

Some of our favorite places to explore were the wild areas behind our houses. Each of our homes sat tucked into a set of hills. Behind ours was a wooded area that housed possums and foxes, and behind theirs were miles and miles of rolling hills.

One day, my sister and I went over to the twins’ house, and as we were getting ready to go exploring, their father asked if we spent so much time on the hills because we were looking for the plane crash. This was the first any of us had heard about a plane crash, so we naturally asked for more information. Their father went on to explain that a few years prior, a small six-person plane had crashed somewhere out on the hills behind their house. Needless to say, we were all very excited and eagerly set out into the hills, hoping we might be able to find the wreckage.

The four of us now had a mission in our wanderings – to find the downed plane. That first day, we spent hours walking the hills, combing through the shrubs and tall dead grass, looking for any trace of metal, or better yet, bones. We were determined to find it, but when the sun began to set and our time had run out, we hadn’t seen anything. Disappointed but still determined, we headed back to the twins’ house for dinner, with plans to search again the next day.

Weeks of walking and searching went by, but still, we found nothing. After a while, we began to feel like we were going in circles. There had to be a better way to find the plane’s remains. That’s when one of the twins came up with the brilliant idea to mark our paths.

After a quick trip back to their garage for some tape, we set out again. This time, taping a branch or bush down each trail we ventured. Over the next few weeks, we must have walked twenty miles over those hills, but we never found even so much as a scrap of metal.

Eventually, our curiosity waned, and we slowed the search to only once a week, playing hopscotch or riding bikes in between. But the lure of the wreckage was never far from our minds.

Sadly, when I was eight, my parents divorced, and my mother decided to move to Maryland to be closer to her family. This meant we were out of time to find the downed plane, and my sister and I spent our last play date with the twins on that hillside, hoping to find the elusive treasure. Unfortunately, we still came up empty.

Disheartened in more ways than one, we went back to the twins’ house to say goodbye to their family for what ended up being our last time. It was then that their father fessed up to the truth – there had never been a plane crash. He’d made the whole story up to keep us out of the house so he could have some peace and quiet.

I remember being angry at the time, thinking of all the hours and effort we put into searching, but looking back now, I only have fond memories. Those days on the hills where we thought we were explorers were some of the best of my childhood. And for that, I’ll always be grateful.

Childhood
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About the Creator

Amanda

Amanda is a mom of four and part of a co-writing team agented with Nicole Payne, and on sub with their first romance novel. She lives in Arizona and is active in the Twitter writing community.

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