My parents are a strange combination of hippie and fundamentalist Christian. They believe in living off the land, in harmony with their surroundings... but they also believe in following the strictest tenants of the church and keep a tight rein on my brothers, sisters, and me.
Of course, I have always rebelled, at least as much as you can when you're home-schooled and live in the Oregon wilderness. I often escape my bedroom by climbing onto the roof, shimmying down the large maple tree in the back of the house, and running off into the woods. I'm not afraid of the forest that surrounds our home; I've spent much of my life playing in and around the trees and clearings here, so they are as familiar to me as a favorite park or playground would be to any other kid.
A few years ago, I came up with a way to defy one of the most fundamental rules in our house: modesty.
In the spring, when the air is warm and even the rain isn't too chilly, I head up into the foothills where you can find one of Oregon's best-kept secrets: natural hot springs. There, I take off all of my clothes and dance in the April showers, as joyful as if I were being baptized all over again. When I am soaking wet and chilled to the bone, I slip into my own little pool for warmth, and spend the day alternating between lounging on a boulder in the cool rain and floating on my back in the hot water.
One of the best things about living so close to an active volcanic range is the occurrence of pools of warm-to-hot water, like Mother Nature's version of a hot tub. And even though they are a lot of fun to relax and play in, when you come upon a pool of steaming water, don't jump right in – some hot springs can reach temperatures that could kill you. Instead, test the water to ensure it's not dangerous before you get yourself in trouble. But once you're familiar with your hot spring, you'll find you want to spend all of your time there because it shows you that everything you could possibly want is right there for the taking, if you're only willing to go look for it.
This morning over breakfast, my father started talking about my obligation to find someone to marry and start a family of my own. I don't want to do that yet, so it became a HUGE fight, which ended with my father restricting me to my room and my mother trying to make peace between us.
At 19, I guess I'm technically old enough to be someone's wife, but I still feel very much like a kid at heart. I'm also not interested in anyone at church. I feel some of the older single men looking at me during services, but the thought of kissing one of them makes my skin crawl. One of my sisters wound up married to a man who is more than 15 years older than she is, and while they have a few adorable children, I see her pull away from him when he pats or touches her and know that I want more for myself. I don't know exactly what I want for myself, however, because I don't really know much about men or the world. And who should be my role models: twin 10-year-old brothers or a dad who takes the Fifth Commandment ("honor thy father and thy mother") to a literal extreme?
I'd rather be in the woods by myself, thank you very much.
Being grounded to your bedroom does have its advantages, the major one being that nobody will bother checking up on you for hours. Shortly after my breakfast fight with dad, I looked out the window and saw dark, purple-gray clouds on the horizon. A rainstorm was coming!
I quickly pulled on a pair of lightweight shorts, my favorite pink tee, and some hiking boots. I tucked a few crackers and a granola bar into my backpack, along with extra socks, a towel, a blanket, and a pullover jacket. I slid open my bedroom window, stepped silently onto the roof, and slid my bedroom window back into place, leaving only the smallest crack open so I could sneak back in. I quickly made my way to the tree and hid in the branches while I surveyed the property. Once I was sure nobody would see me, I dropped onto the soft ground and ran as fast as I could toward the treeline.
As soon as I found myself safely inside the shade of the forest, I slowed down. I took deep breaths, enjoying the fresh, mossy smell that comes before the rain, as the plants in this quiet, ancient place prepared to absorb as much life-giving water as they could. I tried to savor my freedom to move in this place, feeling like I belonged here more than I did in my own house, but before I knew it, I was at my hot spring.
I had beaten the rain here! That gave me time to secure my belongings so that nothing would get wet. I removed my shoes and socks and tucked them into a crevasse in the boulders near my hot spring. I quickly shucked my clothes, enjoying the sensation of the warm spring air kissing my bare skin. After carefully folding my shorts and shirt, I zipped them into my backpack and placed that on top of my shoes in the dry space that had been carved into the rock.
The surface of the dark gray boulders was actually warm from the April sunshine, so I climbed to the top of the lowest one and lounged there, absorbing the heat like a lizard. Against the charcoal color of the rock, my fair skin glowed. I knew my coloring was a contrast to the earth around me – long and thick honey hair flowed to my waist, a perfect match for the small, soft patch that bloomed between my legs. I knew my cheeks would be flushed a rosy pink from the hike up here, but they would be a lighter shade than the heated pink that tipped each of my full, round breasts. I had longer arms and legs than any of my sisters, and when I was alone like this, I would sometimes pretend that I was a wood nymph or some mystical creature, gesturing fluidly as if I were made of magic.
My thoughts were interrupted by the first spatter of rainfall against my flesh. Goosebumps raced down my legs and arms, and I felt my nipples harden into pebbles. I leapt to the ground with a laugh as the skies above me opened up. Cool droplets collected in my hair, on my eyelashes, and slowly formed streams and rivulets that coursed from my collarbone down between my breasts, eddying in my belly button before catching on my golden tuft, then at last streaking down my thighs, past my knees, to puddle at my toes.
