Summer 2010 Jo Lee - JO LEE Magazine

INDULGENCES
Good Morning Dear Mom and Dad
By Katie Heron
San Francisco - California
I sit above the campground in the
glittering sand and close my eyes
in the sun. Camp 4 rustles and
yawns. This is an ever-shifting city of
colorful tents and earthy inhabitants.
Like every city it has its early risers;
the very first zips and grunts and
clangs of morning activity begin as
the last stars fade into the morning
sky.
Yesterday it rained most of the day
and my spirits were damp, along with
my clothes, my tent, my sleeping
bag, my backpack—everything I
own.
I was waiting for a sunny day to wear
my shorts, but yesterday I pulled
them on with a decided vigor; I
was going to be wet and cold and
enjoy it. As soon as my shoes were
tied I shot out of my tent and into
the rain. My legs slapped against
the meadow plants and I was soon
drenched from head to toe in valley
moisture. Everything around me
was enormous—the wide, wavering
meadow, the walls of rock, the
menacing clouds, the sheer depth
of the valley. I could really feel its
depth—the space between rock, the
curve of winds rushing through the
valley bends. I was small—a human
being in a meadow in a valley on a
planet in a universe whose forces can
be felt and never really understood.
As I neared the river I removed my
sodden shoes from my feet. I tied
together their laces, and let them
hang between my fingers. My stride
was freed. I picked my way to the
edge of the river and began to pad
along its bank, toes sinking into
moist sand. I looked down to watch
the placement of my feet, aware
of the sand compressing under my
weight and holding the impression
of each step in a lengthening trail.
I was not the first to walk this
path. Alongside my own were the
defined tracks of another beast,
wider, bulkier, with only four toes
whose points dug into the sand. I
looked up and there was the animal,
a black bear, submerged in the river
and fighting the current in a labored
traverse. It glanced at me once and
disappeared into the forest.
I followed the bear’s tracks. I waded
in, gasping at the river’s bite, and
then submerged in winter melt up to
my knees, I plunged.
I stayed in the river until I could no
longer feel that it was cold. Then I
crawled onto its sandy banks and for
the first time that day, felt warmth
in the air. The rain subsided into
light mist and I sat naked with my
feet dug into the sand, soaking up its
meager heat. I sat for a long time,
humming then singing then laughing
at myself then laughing just because
it felt good. Eventually I stood up
and took off through the meadow,
wet, bare, free, so alive.
Love you,
Katie
JL
Jo Lee Summer 2010 63