Volume I : Chapter III
A man of his word, Mike was knocking on the trailer door before sunrise. He had gone over to Wendy’s to kick Levi out of bed and was getting us all set up to fish. We fished the creek with no luck and slowly woke with the sun. Mike had a friend whose family had lived in Prospect for generations; he was the last of them and left the land to the state. They had turned it into a nature reserve and named it after the family. We walked the reserve for a few hours, followed the river along and smoked cigarettes with Mike and Levi at the waterfall. We had made fast and best friends. Mike brought us to the blueberry patch and we foraged around for a bit, Wendy was going to make us pancakes before we went on our way.
Walking the road back to Wendy’s the sun was high and our time was coming to an end. We knew we had a lot of ground to cover; we were making a run for California. The morning was quiet and slow at Wendy’s, we all took turns washing dishes and prepping for breakfast somehow still half awake. We ate our blueberry pancakes on the front lawn together, sitting at a creaky warped picnic table and promising each other we’d keep in touch.
It’s hard to explain how much our time in Prospect meant to me, I don’t know if it will ever translate. That place and those people, all in seemingly hard circumstances, had everything they needed and there was more love than I had felt before. It permeated every conversation, every moment and it was beyond words to be a part of it.