the roots of human history, still alive here, you don't need to believe, because there are still those who know

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Whenever I am passing through B.C. (not DC), I like to stop in Chase. I whittled away some summer days not so long ago in my memory, childhood and teen years that swirl together, lakeside eddies in my memory, minnows' shadows slip away against the sunlit sand as another shore monster wades through. Chase bakery date squares crumble through my fingers, disappearing in the clear glacier melt. A train's longing call slides through my awareness, its track runs above the sweet spot on the lake where waterskis seem to hover over the water, that dream, perfect summer days, gliding back to now. There's still some gratitude, a smile, some soul to be found in and around Chase, B.C.