Kindred

I recently heard someone say that having money meant having the luxury to say no. After having spent a good fifteen years disappointing myself with every practical decision I’ve made, I can tell you I haven’t stopped thinking about that. Those who say what-ifs are a waste of time might have fewer missed opportunities. When you’re driven by pragmatism and paralyzed by an inability to trust that you can…anything, well the what-ifs start to pile up. So how did I end up here? Well, it was a trip to Antique Row that did it. Antique Row is full of shops with furniture, clothes, technologies, toys, postcards, and paintings that will transport you into the past. The past long before your troubles were even a possibility. I go there when I’m at my breaking point, and after wandering around for the afternoon leave with something affordable that will inevitably add to the clutter that I need to organize in a late night cleaning frenzy. That trip though, I found a kindred spirit. She was suffocating under a pile of dusty books in the corner of shop that sold less lovingly restored pieces. I found her looking for a first edition something or other. I was hooked. The shop keeper skimmed through the little black, leather-bound journal and shrugged. He let me have it for free. I purchased a red, tin nut grinder. I won’t be grinding any nuts. I like to adopt the obsolete. I’m sure if I could afford it, my therapist would have diagnosis for that too.

I read the journal through twice and then something clicked and I requested the first vacation I’ve taken in long stretch to follow a perfect stranger into the wilderness equipped with…nothing. I wasn’t weighing out anything anymore, just acting. The first day was easy, mostly along clearly marked trails. Right before it got dark I walked off the trail into the woods to set-up camp, potentially illegally. I didn’t do much research. I decided it would have to be a cold dinner since a camp fire, should I manage to start one, would draw attention. The night was miserable. It was worse than creaking floorboards in an unfamiliar house. I was not so much afraid of wildlife but being discovered by people. They’re the real animals. With a mountain lion you’re dinner at worst. I have checked since, and there are no mountain lions where I set camp that first night.

The second day, I made my way back to the trail. It got more challenging, further from the stream. I panicked and doubled back to refill my water bottles just in case I didn’t make it to the next water source by the next day. By afternoon I had run out of bug spray and switched to the citronella balm. Balm for areas under any clothing and sunblock on any exposed skin. Greasy, sweaty, and far away from my mediocre life. The trail came to a clearing, I checked the journal; the next portion would be much harder. I decided to camp just out of sight of the clearing, but after the sunset I edged closer to the clearing and looked out cautiously. I lay at the edge of the clearing and looked up at the sky. I had never experienced the night sky without city lights, or any lights washing out the crispness of the glittering stars. People write poetry about moments like this. Although, I’ll never understand them, I understand why. I had not felt such peace before. I got so lost in the darkness, I don’t know how long I lay there detached from the world and still completely consumed by it. No fears of wildlife or stray sociopaths crossed my mind. A breeze fluttered over my skin, dragging so hair into my face, and breaking the trance. I went back to my camp feeling still and slept through the night.

The third day and another pot of porridge. Not the best breakfast but bountiful brunches were not exactly the point of the trip. I walked the perimeter of the clearing reluctant to walk right through the middle to the other side. The trail on the other end quickly went from a stroll to a slow crabwalk down the steep sides of a hill. Standing just felt too precarious. At points I had to climb down facing the rocky hillside, searching blindly with my feet for steady ground. At the midway down the hill the ground leveled out a little to another rocky trail. Further down I could see the stream again, I didn’t know if it was another tributary or the same stream. I hiked further down getting closer so the stream. At the bank I followed the water upstream, and then jumped off to the left to follow a smaller stream through denser woods. Sunlight still cut through the trees to light the way but there was no hint of trail and my only guide was the stream bank. Soon I came upon a pool below a cascade slipping over mossy rocks. I put down my pack and waded into the pool. I swam towards the small waterfall and then behind the curtain of water. I starred at the ledge below the falls. It was dark. It might as well have been a full cave because my imagination raced away with all the terrible possibilities. Then I remembered how I came to be under this fall, staring into the darkness. I swam closer to the ledge failed several times to pull myself up. Finally, I managed it crawl up into the nook. It wasn’t a sprawling cave after all. There was a bundle against the back wall. She had mentioned leaving something behind and I had come to find it. I pulled the bundle down into the pool with me and headed back for the bank. Sitting by my pack I caught my breath, dried off, and looked back at the bundle. It was a jacket tied up with the arms. I bent down and wrestled with the knot.

So, that’s how I got here.

“How much for the camper?”

“Great deal! ’76 Dodge, low mileage, engine is great shape. The couple that owned never made much use of it. $10,000.”

“Oh, I guess it is nice. Kinda old, no? This is more of a starter van. I can’t spend that much on it. Will you let go of it for $5,000?”

“$8,000 minimum.”

“Done.”

“Fantastic! Let’s get the paperwork done. Hey, where are you going to take this baby?”

“I’m going back to school and thought I’d take a slow drive across the country and really make the most of the summer.”

They say empowered women, empower women. But leaving them twenty grand in seed money? Well that’s enough to make a girl really start saying no.