Heads you Lose

Carlos and I hike at night in the foothills.  Sometimes it takes awhile for one's eyes to adjust enough to not trip and be laughed at by one's much more fit and coordinated adult boy. Still, I'm a faster hiker/walker than most people, him included, so the constant tripping makes us more even.

Lately there has been a near full - full moon and enough light to barely see the trail.  Shadows.  It's beautiful and mildly eerie so that my pulse never quite goes down to it's regular hiking rate.  I'm always pretty certain that with every click into this hike, we're a few words,  dogs... one big young man away from me being disemboweled by something hungry and ruining Christmas.

"If I get eaten by a mountain lion, I want my head preserved and kept in a jar. A festive jar. I want to be a center piece for every family dinner or occasion that deserves a head in a jar from now until ... the next Mother's Head takes my place."

"Ok."

Carlos is a man of few words. He wishes he had inherited this trait from me during these long hikes.

He leaves in January for the Navy.  I won't hike alone on those trails at night.  I'm not brave enough. I've hiked with my son since he was born.  During his teenage years he was not a fan, but I'd make him go and usually he'd talk. The most words I'd ever get out of him.  We didn't start hiking at night until recently. It's not a workout for him. He's just being nice.  He knows what it means to me.

"After you leave, I'll never do this. It's sort of ...scary.  It will be another thing I'll miss about you," I tell him.

I remind him how he used to be afraid of a lot of things. Most things.

"You wouldn't let me read you those insipid 'Goosebumps' books, thank god...you kept stopping me at words like 'midnight' and 'goosebump'..."

"Yup." he answers.

"You were afraid of most of the rides at the Fair, so we never went."

"Yup."

"You were afraid of that talking Barney doll that Cindy gave you for Xmas...but then so was I..."

"Uh- huh."

"You were afraid of the DRY CREEK HIKE during DAYLIGHT HOURS!"

It's always a creepy hike. Very remote. Stretches of high granite rocks towering above the trail.  Half eaten deer or elk carcasses.  It feels farther away from the top of the food chain than I like.

"Yup."

"And now you want to be a fucking NAVY SEAL?" I say, tripping.

"Yeah. Well, it's been awhile since I was afraid of the word 'midnight', Mom," he says, helping me up. 

Yup.

Comments

[Jorgen]

Seasonal jars, The Katy head jar for Christmas; Aunt Petunia’s amputated foot jar for Thanksgiving, the mountain lion need to leave the head alone or the whole plan will fail.

I so get what you are saying about creepy places; there are some areas that always give me the chills when I am out hiking, never sure why. And the dogs indicating that something is out there does not help.

Carlos has some pretty high goals; I hope he finds what he is looking for.