Many years ago, my family went on a hike along some old, inactive, railroad tracks. As the youngest, I was too small to keep up, so I was resigned to staying back at the campsite with mom. Being left out of the grand family adventures was a disappointment I had become accustomed to over the span of my short life. While they were off on their adventure, and I was bound to the camp, they came across an antique railroad hammer. My dad thought it was interesting and decided to carry it back to camp with him. Over time, however, the hammer became too heavy. Unable to carry it back to camp, but unwilling to let it go, my dad buried it surreptitiously under a mile marker and then took a picture so that we could return to find it later. That
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Lazily, I glanced at the scattered myriad of snow-white cloud puffs which hung, weightless, in a deeply blue sky. The hot wind hit my arms and face as the sun’s cleansing radiation stung my skin with an electrifying sensation. Through the window, I could also see layers of hills which undulated between high rolling crests and deep canyon-like valleys. They seemed to go on forever. We descended through switchbacks in a steep hillside until we reached the head of the trail which lead to the railroad tracks. We got out of the jeep and retrieved our daypacks which contained some extra layers of clothing (in preparation for any unexpected turn of the weather), a multitude of collapsible water bottles (filled to the brim), and an assortment of high-calorie trail snacks. Feeling fully equipped, we began our trek down that old trail. When we reached the end of it, where the railroad tracks began, we found a sign which warned us that it would be illegal to continue any further - as this would be trespassing on private property. We, of course, did not heed this sign. The familial lore of this forsaken antique had inspired us with the ridiculous notion that it was somehow our birthright to retrieve it. We were on a mission and we were in no position to be reasoned
Lazily, I glanced at the scattered myriad of snow-white cloud puffs which hung, weightless, in a deeply blue sky. The hot wind hit my arms and face as the sun’s cleansing radiation stung my skin with an electrifying sensation. Through the window, I could also see layers of hills which undulated between high rolling crests and deep canyon-like valleys. They seemed to go on forever. We descended through switchbacks in a steep hillside until we reached the head of the trail which lead to the railroad tracks. We got out of the jeep and retrieved our daypacks which contained some extra layers of clothing (in preparation for any unexpected turn of the weather), a multitude of collapsible water bottles (filled to the brim), and an assortment of high-calorie trail snacks. Feeling fully equipped, we began our trek down that old trail. When we reached the end of it, where the railroad tracks began, we found a sign which warned us that it would be illegal to continue any further - as this would be trespassing on private property. We, of course, did not heed this sign. The familial lore of this forsaken antique had inspired us with the ridiculous notion that it was somehow our birthright to retrieve it. We were on a mission and we were in no position to be reasoned