Confessional

Irene laughed at me today when I told her that my favorite memories from this quarter were the times I rode in the back of her truck. We were, naturally, riding in the back when I told her. Tiana and Seth were up front, and we were on our way back from Mallard's. Cigarette dangling from my fingers, wind blowing the hair in my eyes and the smoke from my face, my legs propped crosswise across the truck, it was a typical afternoon ride. And it was magic.

During Spring Break we went camping out at Larrabee. I rode in the back with all the camping supplies, huddling under sleeping bags and blankets, leaning against the mountain of pillows we'd brought along. I ate a Cadbury Egg and watched the trees along Chuckanut pass overhead.

Then there are all the times we've been heading out on some bike ride or another. Irene and Seth in the cab, like usual, my with my legs intertwined between tires and handlebars, usually wearing a helmet "in case we crash." Occasionally, if there are more than just the three of us along for the ride, Seth and I will sit scrunched together in the back, me snuggled under his arm as we try to keep from sliding too far down.