From the shore I took this picture, because I was carrying a camera. I had just bought it, because I wanted one. The beach is the end of a path that I ran on years ago with my sister. Not my little sister, because she was too little and could not keep up, but my twin-size sister and my cousins. We played ambush, because we could. The woods were laced with deer paths, perfect for woodland warfare. It was always two against two. They always won, even when we hid behind the big boulders. We wore our coon skin caps, because that is what Davy Crockett would do. We crawled on our stomachs, getting spruce needles in our underwear and sap on our shirts, because that is how you sneak up on the other two. You have to sneak, or they will hear you and yell bang I got you before you can duck out of view. Sometimes we forgot we were playing, and we would just talk accross the silent warzone about things we didn't understand, like eschatology. That was toward the end, after we had given up cold showers and doing our group hug when we said bye. They wanted to stop, not us. They grew up and we did too, becuase there was no one to play ambush with any more.
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