stories for you.

One summer night, a boy I was totally crushing on but barely knew, decided to teach me to skateboard. On a hill. I pretended to be brave and adventurous. He held the board still. I stepped on, he counted to three, let go, and I freaked. I jumped/flailed off. On the way off, I smacked him, hard. In the face. Whoops. He was tearing up from the hit in the nose but trying to act cool. I felt like an idiot and was blubbering apologies.
Totally awkward.

We were inseparable from that night on.
My mom jokes that I 'fell' in love, and he was 'smitten'.
That night was the beginning of our life together.

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I did eventually learn to longboard. I miss it.

I miss hills.

This place is way. too. f-l-a-t flat.

What's the point of snow if you cant snowboard, or at the very least, sled?

Be gone snow.

Be gone.

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I must have been a very weird child. From time to time I would "run away". I always left a note saying I 'just felt I had to go' (what?), but not to worry, because I would be home in time for dinner (I always had my priorities straight).

Then I would pack a little backpack and "run away". Usually just across the street, to the park with the huge trees where I spent most of my afternoons anyway. Or to the beach behind our house, walking my way around the point to the pavilion. Or I'd hop on the golf cart and drive aalllll the way to the edge of camp (a whole 2 minute drive). I'd find a quiet place, hang out for a while, dream of adventure, and always come back in time for dinner.

Its time. I'm ready to run away again.

We need an escape.

Somewhere quiet, where life can't catch us.