The Beginning Kind

The path between the different falls is a long one- plenty of time to have conversations, plenty of time to have the beginning kind. Behind me, in pair, are Wenzl and Jacob. They are at that stage in their relationship where each conversation forms a building block for the future, though today is tenuous. Jacob is still unemployed and there is air of uncertainty for what that might mean in the long run. I am not worried, but then again I am not in their relationship.  I am happy to see her happy. They may not know it now, but this is healthy for them, and will lay a strong foundation for their future. Their conversational probes are gentle ones, but not idle, and some are followed by long silences. They talk of houses, places to travel, roommates, employment, and paint colors, and circle around, and circle around.  I purposely keep a few practiced steps ahead of them with an unashamed curious ear open. It is refreshing for me to be surrounded by the beginnings of a relationship- one that seems so fortuitous and filled with care. For me though, this place is not about a beginning, not today, this place is where a conversation ended years ago. This is a place where plans had been made when another one of my we's had it's beginnings. 

 

I don’t write about him often or ever now that I think about it. I am still tender, though time heals. But before you all judge, there are few items you should know. He was aware of me, before anyone else was. He knew what I wanted and said no. I didn't listen to him until it was too late for us both and I hurt him. This is not easy to write, nor easy to feel, but nowhere else in the world, is there a place that speaks of him more. I first met Greg as a sophomore in high school. He was a funny, angry, sensitive, quiet, six foot two, blue-eyed straight man. We liked the same films- Willow, toys- Legos but more importantly we shared a love of the outdoors- swimming in Folsom Lake, or walking out at Rattlesnake Hill. Eventually day hikes turned into barely manageable  grandiose trips to different national and state parks with our friends, but always with the we, the us at the core. The trips became a staple of our friendship. Early on, we started plan broadly, we talked about Alaska but not till we had explored the Cascades, starting the long tour first with a detour to Silver Falls State Park. Greg had a passion for waterfalls and it was always worth the detour to hear him laugh like they roar.  This park promised to be the pinnacle of water fall experiences for him, and us.

  

Those who lived this story would say that the end came about because of a girl, but they are wrong. Yeah, there was a girl, who loved us both and it almost tore us apart. But neither of us, understood then why I reacted the way I did. As I got older and I recognized myself for whom I was and what I wanted, I imagined my life with him and said so. He said no. I said okay, which meant I will wait. I did, for years. The trip to the falls kept being put off and became something we only talked about once in a long while, as life intervened with parties, unemployment, and tons of movies. When I was 26 I realized he would never say yes, he didn’t know how, or the heart physically couldn't.  So, I did what I do best, I ran and left for Tahoe promising to come back after the end of the summer. But I never did.  It broke my heart and I know his. He is everywhere here. I am overwhelmed at being here, and surprised that the feeling still lingers however faintly.

Wenzl and Jacob are now sitting on the stone ridge outside one of the waterfalls, exchanging foods. I open, decadent mint chocolates from Alma’s, and share them- a hiking tradition left over from my days with Greg. The chocolates are a welcome, sinful delight.

There is a place at the park where the river runs over, at the first approach to the falls. There you can lean close and see the power of the water and wind roar and fall, turbulent, chaotic to a thousand or so feet below to a calm pool. There is a bench there at the top, which I highly recommend you take a few moments to sit down. The roar drowns out the tense beating of the heart. The mist on the face hides the sting in your eye. And when you put your head in your hands, visitors think you’re at prayer.