“We all think we could run a professional sports team better than the actual professionals, and fantasy exists to humble us,” Josh jokes, before pausing to ask, “What did Ben do for a living?”
“He worked for a medical-industry tech company in product development,” I answer with a quick, labored breath. “Just a dude with a totally normal corporate gig.”
“That’s why he liked sports and the outdoors so much,” Josh says, as though he’s just connected two pieces of a puzzle. “He had to balance out all that time in front of his screen.”
He says this with a deadpan look, staring straight into my eyes before breaking into a big laugh.
“I know you’re trying to be funny,” I say while wiping sweat from the side of my face, “but you’re right. Some days it feels like my laptop is my mortal enemy.”
“Well, be glad you got out of the house today,” he says, grabbing my shoulders and turning me toward a clearing that’s just appeared. “Because this is your reward.”
The view is spectacular. Triple Falls is a series of three beautiful, cascading waterfalls. Most of the hikes we’ve done with the kids have been to what I would now consider tiny waterfalls with accessible pools at the bottom for them to splash around in. The vista in front of me is expansive and more rapid and powerful than I expected. I close my eyes to listen and breathe.
“I can see why you like this,” I say, opening my eyes. I follow Josh to a rocky alcove seating area behind us. The view of the falls gets obscured by other visitors, but the sound stays.
“A half mile up the trail is an even more intense fall,” he says after a minute of rest. “And most people don’t bother to venture up once they’ve seen this, so it’s more peaceful. Are you ready?”
I nod and enjoy the next few minutes of relatively flat terrain before we begin another incline. All the while, Josh and I never stop talking. He asks me more about my family, what my book agent is like, and how we found Canopy in the first place. I ask him questions, too. I want to know how he got into building homes, why he doesn’t mountain bike anymore, and how he got the five-inch-long scar on his right arm. Turns out, my last two lines of questioning are related.
These conversations flow quick and easy like the water in the streams all around us, and before I know it, we’ve reached High Falls. Unlike the orderly triple drop we saw below, High Falls is dramatic and harsh but still utterly beautiful.
I slide my backpack off my shoulders for the first time to grab aquick drink of water and my instant camera. I snap two photos and walk over to the rocky seating area nearby. As the photos develop, I pull out two note cards and a pen.
“Do you mind if we sit here for a bit, and I write notes to the kids?” I ask.
“Not at all. This is one of my favorite spots. I fell asleep sitting up here about a month ago. Kind of like you on that front porch swing,” he says with a sweet grin before turning his attention back to the falls.
I don’t usually snap and send the same photo to the kids, but I know they will each appreciate this in different ways. Benji is my contemplative kid. He feels, he sees, and he imagines things with such depth and complexity that it sometimes feels like he’s not on his first visit to the mortal coil. He’ll appreciate the poetic nature of the landscape.
Benji,
Hugs to my best guy from High Falls, which is just about twenty minutes from the house. This waterfall looks like something from one of those nature shows that you and Dad love to watch. I’m starting to think he kept us on the beginner trails as a family so you boys wouldn’t have to hear us complain on long hikes. This one was tough! There is a covered bridge at the very top that I promise to take you to after camp—it’s high, so I’ll need to be brave.
The water is so powerful that I can barely hear myself think to write this note. I imagine it’s similar to living in a cabin with eight other boys.
Love, Mom
Ava will want to know about the people I saw on the trail, if I overheard any funny conversations, and how much she would’ve hated the hike but loved the view. It will definitely pique her curiosity that I came here with a boy. A boy! Preteens are nothing if not hilarious when it comes to imaginary relationships.
Ava,
I decided to consume air from outside of the house today. Amazing, I know. After four thousand words in the last week, I felt like I earned it. The hike to this view kicked my butt, but I didn’t complain out loud because I wanted to seem tough in front of Josh and the other hikers. He told me it would be worth it, and I hate to admit it, but he was right. The sound up here drowns out all of my other concerns, so it was worth the sore legs that I willdefinitelyhave tomorrow.
I hope camp is going great. You owe me a letter!
Love, Mom
“All done,” I say, turning toward Josh. “I’ve learned to keep camp letters short and sweet. They won’t read anything much longer than a paragraph anyway. The thing they want most is the ‘Love, Mom’ at the end.”
We sit in peaceful silence for a few minutes, sharing a bag of trail mix and taking deep breaths anytime a slight breeze comes by to cool us off.
“Hey, before we go down, can I ask you a question?” I cautiously inquire.
“You know me—I’m an open book. Mostly.”
Mostly, I think, remembering the brief conversation with Lennyabout an ex. But that’s not the direction I take my questioning. There’s something else I want to know.
“James introduced you to me as his workaholic younger brother and made jokes about doing an intervention to save you from your job, but I’ve never heard the real story about the series of events that led you to my doorstep.”
