Summer
has always had a way of high jacking my senses and setting them to
"stun." One memory that came swooshing back to engulf me
recently was of an enchanted day at the end of my senior year of high school.
A group
of 30 or 40 classmates decided to play hookie one Friday at the end of the year
to spend a day at Old Man's Cave in the bucolic Hocking Hills of southern Ohio. I struggled with my inner good girl, weighing the pros and
cons of joining my peers. I had never skipped school before.
The day before our secret trip was scheduled, Mr.
Strietlemeier announced to our Distributive Ed class that he had planned
a pop quiz for Friday, but because he feared several of us would suddenly
fall victim to a strange flu, he would postpone the quiz until the following
week, after we had recovered. I interpreted his blessing as the permission I
needed to throw caution to the wind and join my friends.
At sound of the bell, Mr. S wished us a good
and safe weekend as we spilled out of the room and into the hall, without
casting so much as a backward glance.
Early
the following morning our group of misfits met and formed a caravan that took
us down Route 33 to our destination. We wore our bathing suits under our
clothes and carried in our pockets, bags and coolers the sweet and savory
provisions we would need in those moments throughout the day when sustenance
would be required.
The
specific snapshot of that memory that flooded my consciousness was of wading
into the small pond under the Lower Falls. As I let the memory carry me away, my skin was touched
by the heat of early summer gently cooled by the huge rock surfaces and the
woodland greenery that surrounded us in that magical, ancient place.
This was sense memory at its finest. I felt
myself shedding my shirt and jeans to wade into the cool, sun-warmed water with
my friend, Spodo. We were two woodland creatures, reveling in the beauty
that surrounded us as we splashed, frolicked and languished in the soft water
of the pool. It was a perspective of our adventure that was shared only
between the two of us. We were good and true friends and it was an
extended moment of pure joy.
As that
scene flooded my memory, my view suddenly panned back from being
us to seeing us. From this new perspective of a familiar
memory, it slowly dawned on me, what the effect of the sight of a17 year-old
girl in her soft peach bikini, cavorting in that shallow pool must have had on
some of the members of our group (if anyone else even noticed).
That day remains one of the most nearly perfect memories I hold from that chapter of my life; not just because of the snapshot, but for all it was from beginning to end. It was a day of connecting with people I hadn't known well until that day, and of bonding even more closely with the friends I cherished.
The big picture of my classmates' shared adventure has always made me smile. It was an intimate experience of being among like-minded friends who spent one glorious day together, driving, hiking, joking, swimming, talking and laughing together.
The memory of that enchanted day, coming to me as it did on such a cold winter's night, warmed my heart and soul, filling me with gratitude for memories of good times with old friends.
Image: Stock photo of the Lower Falls at Old Man's Cave
