Dear Former Self,
I would ask you how you are, but I already know. Perhaps you are running on the driftwood along the beach, avoiding the sand at all costs because it’s lava. Perhaps you are climbing the big hemlock outside the house, the one that mom told you not to ever climb, so of course you had too. Maybe you’re out with the other kids in the neighborhood, weaving through the trees like a soldier, plastic gun in hand; making forts out of chairs and boxes, and mountains out of dirt mounds. The world is your playground, and nothing can stop you right now. That’s important to remember, for the rest of your live. The world is your playground, and you can make anything you want out of it. Don’t lose your inner child.
Being at Dry Falls brought that child back out of me, just as the woods on campus had. I wanted to run, play and throw rocks. Yell into the canyons and listen for my echo to bounce off every surface. And I did, it was superb. I could feel myself lose all the stress and worries that I had carried with me here, falling off as I jumped over streams and climbed the rocks Peter told us not too. The idea of falling didn’t scare me, just as it wouldn’t have scared a child climbing a tree. The cave that was a thousand feet in the air, with nothing but sheer basalt under it had to be conquered. And after it was I declared myself King of The Mountain, for surely I had earned that title. I learned about my physical capabilities, my strength, and cunning jumping over, and under all the obstacles that the flood had left in my way. The child with in was truly brought out by the landscape, and I remembered how important it was to view the world as my playground.
Dear Former Self,