I stared at myself in the hazy, scratched mirror of the campground bathroom. A Chernobyl-sized beetle scampered past my foot. I didn’t flinch. It appeared I wasn’t quite myself. Was it the aftermath of the Black Death-like virus I’d survived the week prior? No, that wasn’t it. Was it the darn altitude fuzzing my brain…
Tag: camping
Introducing, My “Little Sparrow”
I wasn’t like a lot of other 16 years olds back in my day. I mean, in some ways I fit the bill of a kid in the ’90s: shopping at the Gap, wearing lots of flannel, doing my hair up in scrunchies. But then, while other kids were getting high and heading to see…