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Show The Engagement (For My Sister Maggie) There is a place of which I dream on two or three occasions a year. I arrive there by taking a freeway exit which seems seldom used. I have been searching for my friends, but I cannot find them. The search has drawn me off several exits already, and forced me to back up a ramp against traffic, and I am angry. To calm myself I drive down the road from the unfrequented exit for several miles, until I come to a small bridge. Beside the bridge is a stone stairway which seems to lead down to the stream, but I do not take the stairs. I cross the bridge on foot and walk up and down a deserted campsite. The campsite is set in a small valley, and it is impossible to see beyond the sharp edges of the mountains. A mountain curves around in a cliff to seal off the valley. At one side of the campsite there is a wall of flat stones set in cement, nearly twice my height. Along the cliff rim pines are silhouetted by the sun, but in the valley young soft wood trees dim the light, and the colors seem pale. I begin to climb the wall. It is a hard climb and I sweat while pressing myself against the wall and searching for edges on which to set my hands and feet. With the aid of an overhanging -19- |
