The sun is setting over the horizon of trees across the river. The water is cold on my feet, dangled off this dock as I sway them back and forth. Orange and red and a faint purple. The breeze is nice. No mosquitoes anymore—late enough in the season. Long sleeve weather.

This place—this place had been so damn magical that night—the two of us hand in hand, eating candy and naming all the shapes in the dark sky.

Fish jumping. Splashes in the night.

Gone.

Ephemeral.

“How long have you been here?”

A turn of my head. A smile.

“Uhh…I don’t know…what time is it?”

“8:30.”

“About an hour then.”

“Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“No. It’s okay. It’s been nice. I was early.”

“How did you find it again?”

“I didn’t. I mean obviously I did but I just started driving. I had a vague sense of which direction to go so once I got far enough out it all sort of came back to me. You?”

“Me? Haha well I, um, I’ve been coming out here about once a year for the last ten years.”

She grins and sits beside me, taking off her sandals, rolling up her pants, and plopping her feet in the water. Back and forth, back and forth.

“Really? For ten years? Has it really been that long?”

“It has.”

“I hope you weren’t coming out here on account of me.”

“Oh don’t be stupid right away.”

“Fair enough.”

“No I’ve been coming out here because, well, I don’t really know I guess. It’s nice. It’s a nice escape. It reminds me of those simpler times. It lets me sit and see the world as an organic thing rather than the mechanical system that we all know and love, you know?”

“Yeah I don’t get to experience things like this that much anymore. I mean I guess I could if I really seek it out or something but I don’t tend to these days. I think I that was part of the reason why I came out here so early—-well most of that was giving me enough time to find it—but there was a part of me that just wanted to be in this place—alone—and take it all in. I didn’t want to be distracted when you showed up.”

“Oh that’s just sad.”

“Wait what that I’m so easily distracted?”

“No no no that you don’t have places like this anymore.”

“Oh…well, like, I get it in bursts here and there. A full moon, an eclipse, a sunset reflected off the buildings. But those moments are so quick that you have to be attentive to catch them. And it’s not like I never leave the city or anything—camping, cabins, et cetera, of course—it’s just somehow none of those things have lived up to this place.”

“There is something.”

“It’s just so fucking perfect! No traffic, no people, just the dock and the river and the trees with the sun setting over it all illuminating it in crazy colors! But obviously it’s more than that, there’s just, something, I don’t know, something that is wholly unique to this place. Embedded memories and all that I’m sure. Perhaps nothing ever will really be like this place. God I just can’t believe I haven’t been here in ten years. I mean, I’ve been in town. And I thought about it, but never when it would be feasible: drunk or busy or telling myself I’d never find it or really anything. I mean, I think I was nervous that it would have lost its luster. Houses crammed in—people everywhere—or worse, that it’d just be any dock on a river…I’m sorry I’m rambling…”

“No it’s great. It is. For me, coming here once a year has been the perfect balance. Every year I’d worry that this would just be a plank of wood over the water but it hasn’t been. Every time it’s been a stamp on my memories…a validation of my thoughts. I really never thought I’d be here with you again though.”

“I know. Me either.”

“What happened?”

“I don’t know…I got distracted?”

“By what?”

“I’m not even sure. By life? I think I got caught up in the stream of things, people’s expectations, et cetera. No that’s not true. I wanted out so badly that once I left I didn’t want to return. Some bullshit about progress in my head. Some idea that returning implied regression.”

“Did it?”

“Yes and no. Don’t take this the wrong way—it’s just that to some extent being here I feel 18 again. I don’t mean that in a bad way I just worry that I’m not being representational of myself, that somehow I’m as I see myself or would like to see myself rather than as I am usually now.”

“Do you not feel like yourself now? I mean, right now, in this moment, you, here.”

“No the funny thing is I feel more like myself now than I normally do. God, sense of identity is such a weird thing. Sometimes I think that as soon as I take the exit off the freeway to get back to town I go through some gate and my entire self rearranges into the person I had hoped I would be, no—maybe the projection of the person I was,  just years forward. Oh god that doesn’t make any sense does it?”

“Haha no, maybe, well I think it does, in a way. I just can’t relate too strongly. I mean, yes. I have this sense when I think back to ten years ago or longer that I didn’t fulfill a lot of my strong desires I had at that point. But I think I’ve taken the evolution well. I try to not second guess who I am or what I’ve done. I am what I am because I am, you know?”

“Yeah, I do. My problem is that who I am changes so frequently. I feel like I completely change who I am every couple of years. I’m never satisfied with the current me. I always think I am and then I always get bored of it and find something new to get obsessed about.”

“Maybe you’re putting too fine a point on it.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well—and correct me if I’m wrong—but you seem to be defining yourself based on what you’re doing, what you’re currently interested in.”

“That’s fair.”

“Well haven’t you ever considered that it’s your nature to change, to obsess? That by reinvesting yourself you’re just fulfilling your personality? You are who you are and what you do changes but not who you are.”

“Ha no I guess I’ve never thought of it that way. I like it. I’ve always seen it as escapism or boredom or something.”

“Well I’m glad I could help.”

“Me too. Me too.”

The sun has set and darkness pervades. The air is cool. The sky is littered with bright shapes.

“For me I feel like I have two choices. One, I can constantly compare myself to my childhood expectations and constantly be disappointed. Or, two, I can realize that those expectations were unrealistic and childish and accept myself and my situation for what they are…me living my life. Me, playing out the role I chose for myself. I am nothing if not the culmination of my choices.”

“And you’re actually happy with those choices?”

“Well, yeah…”

“Sorry that wasn’t meant as anything negative or anything.”

“I know, I know, I just—I just find myself defending myself to so many people like I’ve done something wrong by staying here. My parents, some of my friends who have ‘moved on to better things,’ people like you who have no fucking idea what I’ve been doing.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to—”

“No. I’m sorry, it’s fine. This is just weird. I didn’t expect to ever hea—”

“I know. Honestly finding myself here has all been a bit strange.”

“Good I thought it was just me.”

“I mean I know it’s weird, but I’m pretty happy right now. Relaxed even. Relaxed for the first time in a while I think. This is nice.”

“It is nice. It really is. I’m sorry I didn’t mean to say that.”

“No it’s fine. And you did mean to. And it’s unfair of me to—”

“Oh just stop.”

Silence.

And then splashes in the night. One, two, threefourfivesix!

Silence.

The ripples of water lap up onto our ankles.

Silence.