Lately, I have explored, often with my husband and cat, the rather wild ravine carved by the once-more-active waters of Pacheco Creek. It is thrilling to be deep in the mostly forgotten and rarely frequented creek bed where the water in summer is a trickle. It lies in some instances at least thirty feet below the ground, erosion still crafting its walls. Full of exposed roots, I find it tangled and bittersweet: a place where the ancestors seem closer than they do otherwise, a place where I am urged to reflect upon my own origin and source. [download narrative essay]