In the early hours of the next morning, my younger cousin, Shelly and I tip-toed past Brent’s pup tent to make our way up the creek so I could wash my hair. Normally, I would have taken my time to wake up, hang around the campsite for a bowl of warm, sticky oatmeal, and then gradually make my way down to the creek to wash up. But now, there was someone I wanted to impress! So off we went, trying hard not to steal a glance into Brent’s tent window as we passed by. I put my finger to my mouth to hush my cousin’s giggles.
After I washed my hair in the ice-cold, crystal water, I wrapped it up in a towel and made my way back to camp. I ducked into our tent and began to dress and primp. When I finally came out of the tent, I looked and felt wonderful. Suddenly, I was struck with a frightening thought! What would happen if my old boyfriend decided to make his way up to our campsite?! I had invited him on a whim at the last minute before we left. We were not dating anymore, but remained friends. I guess I was a bit lonely for companionship, so decided to invite him along. My mother helped me with the phone call. She relayed that he said he had some studying to do for a college exam and if he had the time, he might try to make it up. I told him how to get there and that I would put up paper plates with his name on them as markers along the way.
Now I was frantic! In no way did I want an old boyfriend to come up to our camp now and interfere with my beginnings with Brent! I begged my aunt for the keys to her car, grabbed Shelly, and drove nervously back down the dusty mountain road. Together, Shelly and I ripped down all the paper plates with my old boyfriend’s name on them that would direct him our way. We doubled back making sure we left no trace. When I was certain we had retrieved every last one, I breathed a sigh of relief. My cousin and I laughed clandestinely as we drove back to our camp.
We arrived to see Brent eating his breakfast with his family and tending the campfire. We exchanged coy looks and waves. A short while later, Brent made his way over to our camp for a personal hello. While he was there, my aunt told Brent of our plans to go up to the Swimming Hole later that afternoon when it warmed up. She suggested he and his family join us. I nodded to encourage the idea. Brent said it was a great plan and he would ask his family to come along. To my delight, his family gladly accepted to join us after lunch. In the meantime, I suggested that Brent join my cousins and I on a visit to The Indian Grave.
The Indian Grave was marked by a large weathered, granite stone hidden back on the far side of the creek, high up on a hill. I’m not sure why we called it The Indian Grave. I think I once heard the grave possibly belonged to a shepherd who herded cattle and horses in that area, but that may have been a fabricated story too. The stone was engraved with a man’s name and the date of his passing. He was a mystery to us, which made our journey to his grave site an adventure in which we made up new stories about who he might have been. The surroundings were beautiful and well worth the hike it took to get there.
Both of my younger cousins led the way. They had been to The Indian Grave hundreds of times before. Fresno Dome campground was not a new place to them. It was home away from home. Brent and I flirted along the way as Shelly glanced back and giggled at us continuously. Brent took his journal along, and I took my small Kodak Instamatic Camera, snapping pictures of wildflowers along the way.
From a distance, I watched Brent talk to my cousins about the mountain place they knew so well. Brent looked so natural and comfortable with the younger kids, and they adored him. He seemed to fit right in. Every now and then, I would look over my shoulder and catch Brent gazing back at me, which made me smile and blush. I was overwhelmed with joy and falling deeply in love!
