A couple 11 or 12 year old boys tried intimidating Des into surrendering his bike. They picked the wrong cracker, Des would have sooner clocked them with the bike than give it up.

Ryan, Des and I would do knife hits in the kitchen, walk out and climb the fence and onto the roof.  From there, a huge alder tree hanging over the house would give us some cover to drink 40s and watch the street from our high perch. We were high upon high, and given to fits of giggles or deep into sham philosophy.

For the most part, we were invisible, only kids and dogs would look up at us. Most adults have their attention flattened to two dimensions. We could observe the world with impunity.

On my way home one day, I was wearing sunglasses and a straw cowboy hat, tired, and riding the second bus transfer back towards my neighborhood. A cute blonde girl with long, straight hair gave me a bashful smile, and I turned the charm on, somehow coming away with a name, Faith, a phone number and promise to hang out. Things were on the rocks with the girl I was seeing, so why not?

We met up, and she was plastic, bubble gum, but the animal magnetism was nearly impossible to resist. It was empowering to be able to hover near this aesthetic beauty, and have the self-control to keep my distance, and my paws off. My heart would pound when I was with her, yet the lack of essence, lack of reality about her, foiled any actions I’d entertained.

Smell of spearmint gum, leather, make-up, perfume. As model-beauty as she was, I couldn’t get past that plastic layer, though we hung out numerous times. She’d just been given a car, by an aunt, or some relative.

Somehow she actually had a license, but after five minutes with her at the wheel, for fear of my life I had her pull over so that I could drive. It’s okay, sweetheart, I’d say. I don’t mind driving. She’d act mad, but a minute later would admit she really hated driving for the stress it caused her, and she knew she just wasn’t very good at it.

I’d moved to another apartment in that time, to SE Pine street and 30th. The Kalani apartments, where the manager had wall-sized portraits of JFK and all kinds of Catholic periphenalia.

Faith came to visit me one night, dressed to kill. She looked stunning, and as soon as we were alone in my room, threw her arms around me, and kissed me.

And there was a shock in hitting that boundary. I stopped her, and sometimes, to this day, am not sure why.

I never saw her after that night. There were a few uncomfortable phone calls, and that was it.

Ascending on hands and knees, I feel the far valley over my shoulder recede.

My hands rub over smooth, wet stones, looking for purchase, advance scouts of where my toes will later find a hold.  I take great pleasure in that my body knows what to do before I do, and it enjoys the challenge. My mind is a weightless captain watching the autopilot handle even the smallest nuances of flight.

There are small caves all around; dark, man-sized or larger. Some deep self-preservation instinct keeps me from examining them closely. I must keep them in my periphery, but focus on moving uphill.

The sky is grey. Fog shrouds the nearby hills, punctuated by sparse treetops, and it is a wet cold that hangs in the air. I pull small clouds cold, heavy, and wet into my lungs with each breath. My nose runs, and my fingers are half-numb. I know my nose is still there, though I cannot feel it.

Nowhere is a rock fully naked, moss on every north-facing side.

The hill is not steep, but the roundabout route up makes the journey long, and looking behind, the valley below looks miles and miles further away each time.

Ahead there will be a cliff-top house, lit with a warm yellow-orange glow of many candle-lit lanterns, with a group of happy people around a series of wide, multilevel patios of rock gardens and impossibly twisted, life-sized bonsai trees.

I can make out the sounds of voices and friendly conversation. These aren’t just any people, but people who will recognize me, even if we’ve only met in dreams, and who, in this state, I cannot hold a grudge against, and have forgiven me all my mistakes.

All of the trivial things from that past life have fallen away.

Along with the warm light, music, friends, there are hugs waiting for me up ahead, up above. I will arrive, and my entrance will be modest, welcome, and mellow.

I will set down my pack, drop my defenses, free my mind of weapons. I’ll find fresh water and warm food, and have a good stretch. The embrace of friends, and inner satisfaction at having completed the journey, will thaw any remaining trace of coldness.

This night I will sleep well.