"Cave Pt 1"

As a kid, I dug holes because I thought that maybe under my parents' lawn there was some magical world that I was just feet away from. A couple more scoops of dirt and I would hopefully fall into the warm water of a glowing lagoon lit by crystals a la Muppet Treasure Island. I would be too deep to hear my grandma’s voice and I would never have to write those thank you cards for my birthday party. I wanted freedom from the little responsibilities that I had.

In middle school, my friends and I spent one Sunday night digging into a parking lot snow drift, knowing that a snow day was inevitable. We all had our personal motivations to dig with wet mittens in freezing temperatures. Simon recently noticed that the body that made everyone laugh in elementary school now made him want to hide under the pull-out bleachers during the slow songs at the school dances. I always got homesick staying at Chester’s mom’s house so I assume Chester didn’t like sleeping there all alone either. Plus when his mom was home, her boyfriend smelled like Macy’s and dressed like he was from New York City. But I remember what drove me to keep on digging was the hope to rest my back against the walls of this snow cave and feel the peace and quiet we earned from hours of digging into something unknown and away from the outside world.

In some ways, I was hoping to feel the same sensation once I completed Cave Pt 1.  

Cave Pt 1 came from a 10-year chapter of my life of me digging into the internet, finding my first love and recovering from the heartbreak that followed.  If I showed how I felt lost at sea, anchorless on my mattress, would that feeling of hopelessness float off my chest? Could I pack enough memories to create a wall thick enough to rest against the present? What I’ve learned most from Cave Pt 1 is that the pleasure does not come from the moment of repose but in fact the thrill of the dig.