an echo

Since we've lived in the suburbs, mom and dad have been so closed and quiet. They only really seem happy on our summer trips back to the mountains. They take turns heading the trail, but it's so hard to keep up with them. It's like watching a squirrel bounding from branch to branch, with their feet telling them exactly where to step. But the trail is so rough and steep. Whoever isn't leading us up the trail usually waits for me to catch up. I just want to rest, but they won't let me until we reach one of their remembered landmarks. When we do stop, we only take a few minutes for water. I wish I could just lie down and rest. They're so comfortable here, and I am so out of place. It's like they are just sleep walking when we are at home, but when we come back here, they're awake and alive again. I wish I could like it here like they do. I'm so cold and tired and dirty, though, that all I can think about is how much longer it will be to the top. How long until we can go home.

submitted by Adam Faja
Ann Arbor, Michigan USA
February 1997

| Next Essay | Family Secrets Index | Museum Entrance |