Last night, my sister tumbled into my room with a plan. “Let’s go hike Diamond Creek!” I glanced at my watch, and silently thanked the universe for Alaska’s eighteen hours of daylight. We had time. Stuffing ourselves into rain boots and sweatshirts, Lia and I sprinted for the car. Our parents followed us outside. “We want to come, too!” Haphazardly, the four of us sped off.
Yes I Was Arguing With My Parents
Here’s a little background: for the past week, I’ve been fighting with my parents. We’ve been arguing about the little things: laundry on the floor and dishes in the sink. Let’s just say that at this point, I could memorize their lectures.
As we walked toward the beach, I tried to forget about the fighting. I focused on the trees. I watched a bird land on the trail. I listened to the steady heartbeat of the waves, and tuned everything else out. Every once in awhile, a bitter thought fought its way into my brain. I’m surprised they’re not telling me to vacuum this trail.
After an hour, my mom looked back at us. “Time to turn around.” I didn’t move. There she goes, telling me what to do again. When will it end?! “Okay,” my mom sighed. “Dad and I are going to start heading back. You and Lia can follow us.” I nodded solemnly, and my parents disappeared up the trail.
Remembering That I Love My Family
For a moment, I half-considered running in the opposite direction. “Oh, come on,” my sister said, tugging on my sleeve. “Let’s follow them.” Five minutes passed. Lia and I walked slowly, both vaguely lost in our own worlds. Ten minutes passed. “Katie! Lia!” At the sound of my dad’s voice, we looked up. “There’s a huge moose headed your way!” I thought he was kidding. He’s trying to trick us, I thought wildly, because he’s still mad that I didn’t unload the dishwasher! He wasn’t. The moose lumbered toward us. Its fur was matted and wet, and I marveled at the hugeness of it all. Quickly, I grabbed Lia’s hand, and hurled us into the bushes.
The next half hour went something like this:
“I see it! Move back!”
Two steps back.
“Okay, I think it’s gone.”
One step forward.
“NOPE, IT’S THERE, WE’RE GOING TO DIE!!!”
Three steps back.
“It has to be gone by now, right?”
One step forward.
…And so on.
Finally, we collapsed at the head of the trail. My anger and strain melted into a puddle when I saw my parents. My brain weeded out the arguments, and only left room for one thought: I’ve never been so happy to see two people.