Page 26 of It’s Only Love

Dennis

Today’s the first time I’m taking a group of kids out to explore. Each week, we have a different group of kids participating in our summer camp program, learning about nature and conservation.

This is what I want to do full time, not as a summer camp but as a place where kids can build a lifetime of skills and knowledge.

A place that takes them away from possible suffering and struggles and replaces them with hope and joy.

What I really want is to be part of a non-profit organization that works with kids to help them succeed in life.

The state would have to fund such a thing through grants, and while it won’t make me tons of money, it would be completely worthwhile.

I wouldn’t offer only fun activities and hiking, but also real survival skills that push their critical thinking. That’s the kind of educator I want to be and not constrained by the public school system.

Because there are twelve kids between the ages of six and nine, I need some help due to licensing requirements.

The maximum number of kids I can watch over alone is eight.

That’s where Harper comes in. She’s only working for the summer before she heads back to college, but she’s helping me out today.

She’s a five-foot-nothing nineteen-year-old with soft pink hair.

She’s holding the clipboard to make sure we have all the kids’ names down and faces to match.

I clap to get their attention when she’s done. “What are the rules for today?” I ask them.

A little girl of about six with blonde pigtails raises her hand. “Stay together.”

“Yes! Exactly. Always stay together and close to me. I’m Dennis, and this tiny thing here is Miss Harper. You can’t miss that pink hair of hers. She’s like a bright neon sign.”

She smiles and rolls her eyes, shaking her head. The kids giggle. Who knew I could make kids laugh? This right here makes this job so much more fun.

I remove my baseball hat and wave it in the air. “And while my hat is teal blue, my hair isn’t nearly as pretty.”

More giggles.

“What’s the next rule?” I ask them.

“Stay on the trail,” a boy with brown hair like mine says.

“Perfect! Yes, please stay on the trail. If for any reason you get separated from the group, just stay put on the trail, and either Harper or I will come find you.”

Once we have the rules down, Harper and I lead the troops, who carry their own water bottles. The guided hiking tour is only a couple of hours at most, so there isn’t much else we need. When we return later, we’ll have a craft project for them.

I take a deep breath of the rich soil and incredibly fresh air before I start my lessons.

“Did you know that here in Oregon, we’re surrounded by a coastal rainforest?

” I say as we walk through the woods, dense and lush with old growth.

The trail is thick with ferns and lily pads, a sign of ancient forests.

The kids shake their heads.

“Much of this forest is very old. Even older than our parents. And they’re pretty old,” I wink at their laughs. “Especially the huge Sitka spruce trees. Did you know some of them are over three hundred years old?”

The kids’ mouths open wide with awe, though they probably have no real concept of how old that really is.

“Raise your hand if you’ve heard of the Lewis and Clark Expedition. Have you learned about that in class yet?”

Some of the kids raise their hands. “Who can tell me?”

“They explored the country?”

“Yes! They were quite famous explorers. They traveled across the entire country, from the East Coast to the West Coast.” I pat one of the Sitka trees.

“Some of these trees were here when they came to this area all the way back in 1801! That was a long time ago. Imagine it. I could be touching the very tree Lewis and Clark touched. I don’t know about you, but I think that’s really cool. ”

I keep the history lesson short so they don’t grow bored after talking about how the local indigenous tribes used these trails when the ocean was too dangerous to canoe in during the winter months.

Next, we stop by a tree that was cut down to keep the trail safe. I teach them how to count the rings in its stump to tell its age.

Harper and I then take the kids over to Indian Creek to look for cool rocks, which will be part of the art project we have planned when we wrap up the hike.

“All right, everyone, gather together,” Harper says once we reach the creek, pulling out her clipboard as I count heads .

My heart stops and my stomach drops when I instantly recognize that a kid is missing.

“Shi–shoot.” I run in a circular perimeter, looking for the missing child, but I can’t find him. “Who’s missing, Harp? I know what he looks like, but I can’t remember his name.”

She looks at the kids and then nods, knowing who I’m talking about, her eyes full of worry. “Josh Davies. Please find him.”

“I will. Keep the kids together.”

“I’ll take the kids to the picnic benches to wait for you. The art stuff is already set up, so I’ll keep them busy doing that. While they’re distracted, I’ll call the park rangers.”

I nod. “Good. I’ll stay in touch.”

My gut twists painfully as I remove my cap and wipe the sweat from my brow.

I need to backtrack. Dammit! I didn’t even notice a kid had slipped past us.

We had that lecture about staying together, and what did one of them do?

They left. Horrific visions hit me: that he’s been mauled by a black bear, or fallen to his death from an overlook.

God, I’m so fired. But I can’t worry about that now. The kid is the priority, and making sure he’s safe.

I check deeper into the woods now and again, making sure I don’t miss him. Ugh, they’re supposed to stay on the trail if they get lost! I learned in college that there are kids who don’t process information the same and are easily distracted.

I cup my hands around my mouth and call out. “Josh! Josh Davies! Where are you?”

I’m met with nothing but silence. The woods are so dense that not much noise penetrates. In fact, I can barely hear the ocean in the distance.

God, I’m worried sick. I pull out my phone and quickly call Mike, needing someone to talk to as a sense of defeat washes over me. He’s always calm and level-headed, and he’s exactly who I need right now .

“Hey,” he says when he answers.

“Hey, so, yeah… I lost a kid… Already, Mike. My first class with only kids, and I’ve already lost one. He walked off, and I didn’t even notice.” Admitting my failure makes my stomach twist, and I hold my breath, waiting to see how Mike will react.

“Damn, Den. And you haven’t found him yet?”

“No. Shit, what if something happened to him?”

“If anyone can find him, you can. Do you want me to call the park ranger?”

“Harper, the girl I’m working with, is already calling them. Thanks, though.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“I don’t think so. I just…”

“You’re worried and need someone to talk to?”

“Yeah.”

“If you need me to help look, call me back and I’ll be there.”

I swallow and nod, even though he can’t see me. “Thanks. You know, for... how I can always count on you. I just needed to get this off my chest. I’ll check in later.”

“We’ll grab a beer after this. How does that sound? You can vent all you want. You will find him, Den, and he will be okay.” His words sound like a promise, and his calm spreads to me, just as I knew it would.

“Thanks,” I say again, and hang up to keep searching. I keep going into the woods and back out onto the trail, calling for him. It’s taking too long, though, and anything could’ve happened by now.

When I approach a viewpoint overlooking Indian Beach, I stand close to the edge to look down. There’s a trail that goes down to the beach, but this particular one is too steep for little kids. There’s a better way to get down there.

In the distance, down below, there’s a group of people gathered in a circle on the beach, and in the center are several harbor seals that live around here all year, sunning in the sand. At least the tourists are keeping their distance.

Something catches my eye that seems out of place—and I’m very familiar with this whole area. It’s a blue color among all the brown and green, and I instantly recall that Josh is wearing a blue windbreaker. Why is he just sitting there in the ferns?

I swallow my fear and call out to him.

“Josh? Are you okay?”

He looks up at me and waves. “I-I slipped and I think I hurt my ankle.”

Yep, I’m so fired. At least the kid seems okay, other than that.

“I’m coming down and I’ll help you back up, okay?”

“It really hurts.”

It rained yesterday, so the trail going down here is muddy, and there are too many rocks. It’s not an overly challenging trail, but it’s slick, and as careful as I am going down, I soon feel my feet slide beneath me.

And there I go , I think to myself as I slip and take a tumble, scraping my legs and arms on the rocks before I grab onto a small tree trunk, catching myself.

“Fuck,” I hiss. My knees and legs are throbbing from the pain all the way to my bones.

There are some gouges on my shins, and I’m bleeding, but I try to ignore the pain to reach Josh.

Going back up is going to be a pain in the ass, but it’ll be easier than helping him down.

I don’t want to risk either of us slipping.

When I finally reach him, he looks to be in the same state as I am, with some minor bleeding.

I check his head for injuries. His eyes are red-rimmed and wet from crying, but he looks okay.

I run my hands all over him, checking for fractures and asking him questions about other places he may be hurt.

I end up on his ankle, which moves fine, but is starting to swell. It looks sprained.

“Why did you leave, Josh? We told you to stay with us.”

His brown eyes water, and his lips tremble. “I wanted to see the seals. They’re my favorite.”

I soften, because I probably would’ve done the same for my favorite animals, which are pretty much all of them.