At least two of my children will have their lives altered forever. Was it the right thing? Only time will tell. To be honest though, they did it to themselves. I only hastened the consequences of their actions.
Slamming the door of my car, I say goodbye to the sloping outskirts of the Cascades for time being. I left my wife a note, though I imagine she’ll hardly notice my absence. She is content with the fine things I’ve given her, my presence in her life is no longer really required.
I get on highway 26 near Sandy, Berkley is my destination, but I need to pick up some camping supplies on my way out. An hour later, I’m driving past Saturday Market in downtown Portland. The way is blocked by a sea Reed and PSU sweatshirts, their wearers screaming angrily and holding signs that insist “NOT MY F#@!ING PRESIDENT”. I slow and stick my head out the window. It’s slightly warmer outside then I expect.
“Hey kid,” I shout to one of the protesters.
He glares angrily at me and slams his sign against the hood of my car.
I take a deep breathe. “I’m heading to the Pipeline with my daughter. Where can I get some decent camping gear.”
His face changes from untamed to fairly docile. He lowers his sign and he pulls a smartphone from his pocket.
“Uhh, yeah, so there is an REI just around the block here. Definitely want to go there.” The boy shrugs as he speaks. I remind myself that this is some suburban parent’s son
“Thank you,” I reply, picturing him as a boy scout only a few years earlier.
“Yeah, Good Luck,” he replies, a kid again
I drive slowly through the crowd, shaking my head.