For many years my husband, cat, and I explored the rather wild ravine carved by the once-more-active waters of Pacheco Creek near our former home in Northern California. It was thrilling to be deep in the mostly forgotten and rarely frequented creek bed where the water in summer was a trickle and where, in some instances, the water was at least thirty feet below the ground, erosion still crafting its walls. Full of exposed roots, I found it tangled and bittersweet: a place where the ancestors seemed closer than they do otherwise, a place where I reflected upon my own roots and my responsibilities. [download narrative essay]
