[Zeke]

This is a really silly story:

I had barely reached puberty IIRC when I was camping with my parents up on the Snake River. One night at the campfire some kids decided to play hide and seek. A couple rounds of that and I found myself hooked up with a 14 YO girl who seemed like a goddess to me. We hustled off into a hiding spot and waited to be found.

A perfect night, cool still air with a blazing full moon. The Snake rumbled quietly off to the side. A great cover for a few whispers. Her deep red hair was just about shoulder length and messed up only slightly for a girl at camp. The moon made it look like silk.

She was maybe a year older than me by years but about 10 years older by age. I mean this was a 14 YO Daisy Duke with me out behind a rock sitting in the soft sand still a bit warm from the hot day.

I sensed she was after a little more than hiding. I should have moved on that, but I had really no idea about girls at the time. I needed to act quickly. Remember, people were looking for us. I didn't. I was frozen by inexperience. The night came to a close before there was a 2nd chance.

I thought about her all night long in my sleeping bag. I wanted to get up and find her. But, who knows what would have happened if I was prowling around the campground after lights out. I stayed put.

We were scheduled to break camp and move on the next morning as we did. I looked around constantly for the girl. Never saw her. I had my address written down on a scrap in case she appeared and I hoped we could remain in contact. I had some deep feelings all of a sudden. I had combed my hair rather carefully when I got up in case. We finally got rolling and I sat in the back seat of a huge Buick 4-door looking back at the campsite as we pulled out and around the bend. No sight of her.

I know I welled up knowing that was the end. I wonder to this day a few things. Did my parents have a clue? They didn't help any. Did she feel anything towards me? Would fate ever bring us together again?

She was from Texas and I was from SoCal. And that's how the story remains 52 years later.