a series of reflections by Vien Santiago
It's the one time of year that I get to take a break from being the perfect son if such a thing even exists.
Driving 380 miles from home, it’s further north than Los Angeles is to the south, but it’s a welcoming place. It’s a place thousands flock to each year, escaping from their realities and appreciating the past, the present, and the future.
It’s where I go to sit. It’s where I go to sit by the creek. It’s where the creek flows to allow people like me to sit by it.
I’ve come to this city a few times now. Every time, I’ve been a different person. It’s weird, I know.
This year, I sat on a bench next to the rushing water. Last year, I sat on the curb of a road crossing the flowing stream. Both years, I visited a footbridge and hung my arms over the wooden edge, droplets and mist flying up and hitting my face and forearms.
I can’t say I was a happier camper this year than last. I was on the trip with a community of people, most of whom — I’d recently found out — didn’t like me. And for reasons that I’d never know. I’d spoken to counselors, a responsible adult, and maybe two or three friends about the situation, but the trip was the first time I’d have to face their unkind staring eyes and their previously-perceived-as-friendly jabs. I’d talked to all of these people, but I never really got a chance to speak to myself.
So on that bench, I had a conversation. I had multiple conversations. I had a seminar. Socrates would be proud. (I think?)
conversation one - “a reflection.” (day 1)
“It’s me, Creek.” -> (water rushes on) -> “I missed you too. Look I’m in a bit of a bind.” -> (water rushes on) -> “Thanks. So…
I feel really stupid. These people I only ever treated with kindness and respect, these people I considered to be as close as siblings, despite only knowing each other for such a short time, they don’t like me? They haven’t liked me for about a year?
I know I’m not supposed to care about that, but I’ve been working with them for years now and I’ve stuck my neck out, defended them, tried my best to be a good friend to them, and then… Gone? All of that, just, gone?” -> (water rushes on) -> “I mean…
When I see my reflection in your flowing, clear water, I look the same as I did a year ago. Maybe a little more mature, less baby fat for sure. But did I change as a person? I’ve been the same guy.” -> (water rushes on) -> “You’re right. Maybe I should just flow on. Maybe I should try to find the snow that is my source. Maybe, maybe, maybe, maybe.” -> (a breeze blows some leaves into the creek, the water calms down) -> “Certainly, we can at least keep tensions down by not interacting.”
conversation two - “i think everything’s gonna be okay.” (day 2)
“Good morning, Creek!” -> (the morning’s raindrops slide down to the surface as the creek flows down) -> “I’ve got my coffee and my sandwich, are you ready for a good day?” -> (the raindrops fall) -> “How’d it go? Well…
I feel less stupid. I found people who welcome my company and don’t make me feel inadequate. They valued me and I got to spend some alone time with myself and my thoughts too. Maybe I’m just being a little naive or my standards are too low, but I’ve had enough with maybe. I know that these friends are good, sound ones.” -> (the creek flows down) -> “I think everything’s gonna be alright, you know? I haven’t even thought about the whole situation since I got in touch with you and the others yesterday. I remembered that there’re other people who do value my friendship.” -> (the raindrops fall) -> “And it’s gonna be a good day.” -> (the water soaks the paper bag containing the sandwich in my hand)
conversation three - “old.” (day 3)
“Was I born too late?” -> (the creek wakes up and begins to stir) -> “I mean, was I meant to be older?” -> (the creek stirs) -> “The people I get along with most are so much closer to my age than the people that keep hurting me.” -> (the creek stirs) -> “I always feel like I can be more myself these days when I’m playing the more mature version of me. Was I meant to be a Gemini, not a Sagittarius?” -> (the stars gleam one last time and fade away into the morning sky in the creek’s reflection) -> “We leave in three hours… I didn’t want to not say goodbye.” -> (a rock slides from across the creek and splashes me) -> “Hey! Not nice.” -> (the creek laughs) -> “That made me laugh. Honestly. What were you thinking? Now I can’t remember what we were talking about.” -> (a rogue fish flings some water at me) -> “Hey-! Oh…” -> (the creek stirs more) -> “You’re right. I’m in my own head too much. I’m not too young. Oh no. I’m exactly who I’m meant to be. Oh no no no no no. I’m exactly — no matter what anyone says, no matter what anyone wants me to think about myself — who I’m meant to be.” -> (the morning mist creeps onto my back, covering my chest, and holding me) -> “I’m exactly where I’m meant to be in this moment. I can find where I have to be in every moment. I am capable and I am strong. If not because I’ve been through worse, then because I have myself and I have you, the water.” -> (the creek roars with activity) -> “I am Vien Santiago. And I am not going to bend. I am who I am, and you cannot stop me.”
Editors: Alisha B., Quill L., Blenda Y., Luna Y.
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