DEVIATING FROM THE PATH

The sun was setting when Deva drove us past the “No Camping” sign. We paid it no mind. It was our last night together, and the Columbia River was calling us. We set up her tent on the sand, reveling in our isolation between the forest and the water. We had discovered the freedom of possibility in our spontaneous meeting, and we knew nothing could take it away.

I had met Deva three nights prior during a street festival in Portland. I was 24, hitchhiking around the west, seeking inspiration in the unexpected. That night, I was low on money and had no place to sleep, and the night was growing cold.

Hauling my