yosemite 1991 Part 1

So many significant events filled my 18 year old petite life in 1991. For one, I was a senior in high school. Two, some of the greatest music was born and most importantly, I fell in love.

As I was belting up my high waisted Levi's and lacing up my darling white keds, I dreaded going to my part-time job at Mr. Kim's. Asking a Korean for more time off was a complete deal breaker for him. Tension between us was still crazy thick since I asked for time off for my senior prom, Cantwell's senior prom, gradnight and graduation. Clearly I was abusing his patience. So when I reluctantly asked for more time off to attend our annual summer family vacation to Yosemite, he not so reluctanly said no. I of course went to my Papa and he said, "quit".

The decisions I made that summer were equal parts quick and harsh and flavored with teenage conceit and doused in a heavy course of life's rough lessons. Sometimes I don't understand how the most difficult times in ones life can turn into pleasant memories. The struggle is quite a battle but honestly, this point in my life was welcoming and one of those summer's I will forever warmly remember because without it, my entire life as I know it would be nonexistent.

I didn't realize then that this was the last time I would unofficially be deamed as a child, a daydreamer, awkward and dependant. I guess that's why this moment is so deeply rooted in me.

As the second day of our trip commenced, the three of us decided to make a homemade raft. We floated down stream and the Merced River never felt so peaceful like it did that day. Ironically that would be the last time I would know life without him. I now wished I would have enjoyed that moment a little longer.

second chances

I often ponder on the very same thought that has been fermenting since 1996. When my heart turned 18 in 2013, I no longer entertained his avenues back into my thoughts, worries or more importantly, their lives. Second chances ensued but were quickly extinguished. But due to his light and shady investigation, memoirs have become silent correspondence.