Snapshots || Self Para
August 1st through August 10th
The weekend trip to Sequoia Kings Canyon National Park had been so enjoyable that it hadn’t taken much coaxing for Zander to get Adra on board with the idea of a ten day stay. They were both finally feeling less fragile, and it seemed like the perfect place to let them both remind themselves of how strong Adra was. How strong they were together as a team. The dogs came with, and they learned the hard way that Cassie suffered from mild motion sickness. The poor blanket in the back from his Grandma would get a proper burial as soon as they made it to the lodge. Zander was fond of camping, but not for an entire ten days, so they’d agreed to spend the first seven days of their trip at one of the parks cozy lodges, and the last three camping like wilderness experts.
He ended up being very very pleased with this plan. The beds were far softer than their sleeping bags, and the view from their window was breathtaking. After two days of hiking and taking copious selfies with the large Sequioa trees, they spend the third day in bed, ordering room service and making love for the first time since Adra’s health had taken a tumble. Part of Zander wished he hadn’t waited so long, hoped his careful touches hadn’t hurt her feelings. The other part of him felt like that moment was the perfect moment, for what happened beneath the sheets, and again in the large tub, and again against the wall to mean more than just connection. He hoped it meant a symbol of the final stage of the healing process. The smile didn’t leave his face as he traced her skin, watching her nap in between rounds, falling asleep himself with his face buried against her neck and his arms wound around her securely. Moments like this were what living was for.
The agenda for day four and five were the same, only because they fell so deeply in love with the Crystal Cave that they had to go back for a second tour. They left with phamplets, with knowledge bouncing around their heads, laughing as they quizzed each other and made plans to find other caves in LA to explore. On day five they drove, exploring the scenic highways and byways in the park, pausing to have a picnic at an overlook that made Zander feel both small and big at the same time. With Adra’s head on his shoulder they talked, for a long time, for what felt like days, and if there had been any part of his spirit that she hadn’t reached before he opened them up to her gentle fingers then. He spoke of his father, of growing up with that loss at such a crucial time in his life, of watching his mother struggle to keep the family together with only two hands instead of four. They talked about her . . . the bullet . . . her guilt . . . her body. He held her close and wiped the tears that trekked her cheeks and told her that she took his breath away with how brave she was. That he believed she would get what ever she dreamed of from life. Secretly he whispered a prayer that he still be the one holding her hand when she got there. They lost themselves in a dessert that started with pie and ended with rocks against his back as she straddled him, but he barely felt the earth below him, only the glow of her, only the heat of her.
On day six they took another breather, stayed inside and played board games, had a pillow fight like children, went to the lodge’s spa. Zander watched her as she picked out a shade of nail palish for her manicure, marveling over the fact that in reality they hadn’t been that long, six months since he’d asked her if he might think of her as his girlfriend, six months since that slow burn of connection had tied itself together with intention. It felt like so much more time had passed between them, that she had mattered to him for years and years. Day seven was another trip through the Sequoia trees, playfully playing house amid the giant trunks. He’d never laughed so much in his life, he thought, he’d never felt so out of body in the best of ways, yet so focused in on every detail. It was the Adra effect, something she and only she did to him. The dogs chased enough sticks to make a stick army, and whined when they realized they weren’t taking their army back to the lodge. Day seven they tried horseback riding, and damn if Adra didn’t handle it far more gracefully than he did. Zander’s horse kept wandering into the bushes, and by the time they were back at the lodge, Adra was wiping an alochol swab over various thorn lines left on his skin. He didn’t regret it though, it had been an adventure.
On day eight they checked out of the lodge at eleven, and found their way to breakfast, and then to their camping ground. It could be said that Zander was slightly more rusty at setting up a tent than he let on, which led to Adra playfully chastising him and eventually coming to his rescue. The next days were a haze of timelessness, of arguing over where constellations were until google proved them both wrong. Of giving in to bouts of lust that ranged from emotional hurricanes to purely physical and animistic need. They made smore’s and Adra tried to teach him some Greek, though his pronunciation was utterly deplorable. They climbed Moro rock, and god if there was a day that proved Adra wasn’t bedridden anymore it was this day, because she had to keep pausing to wait for him to catch up with her. They took enough nature selfies and pictures to fill five photo albums. They barely looked at their phones. While hiking they spotted a black bear family and freaked out about it for hours afterwards.
On day ten they were almost sad to go home, packing up the tents, wrangling the dogs and checking for ticks. As they settled into the car though for the drive home, Adra humming along to the radio, Zander smiled. He wasn’t really leaving anything behind. The real wilderness, the real adventure, was in the passenger seat with manicured nails and a smudge of dirt peeking out from the collar of her shirt. She was everything worth awing over, every mountain worth climbing, everything beautiful and earthy wrapped in one warm package. Which made him the luckiest man alive.
