I took a deep breath as I clenched a blanket and a hammock,
Preparing myself for what was waiting for me.
Climbing into Emily’s warm Prius,
We drove to the dunes which would soon be known as:
The place where my lungs went to die.

Gravel crunching under her smooth tires,
We pulled up next to a teal jeep full of our friends.
Jumping out with excitement and pulling our hats and gloves on,
A first step lead to the adventure ahead.

Fresh fallen October leaves barely crunched under our boots;
Water dripped from the branches above us,
Tapping each of us on the head one by one.
Some of the trees stood leafless and naked,
Though a painted picture of orange, yellow, and green was spread in front of us.

Smelling the fresh rain, we walked through the forest.
“Mile 4” popped up to our right on a carved wooden sign,
And a few paces ahead laid a path that went straight up into the trees.
Not able to control our curiosity,
We were now on the trail to the trees.

Shoving through the broken branches and thorn-covered stems,
We navigated our way through the green ridden woods.
Our boots latching to the mud only to give a little bit,
Just enough to make our stomachs drop and our legs tense.
Once reaching the top, the mud and gravel had turned to sand,
And what once were trees were now in the distance behind us,
And dune grass surrounded our shivering legs.

Dunes of golden, rolling sand spread in front of us;
A small sliver of the bellowing blue water peeked through two of the dunes.
Lilac clouds gently kissed the sun as we made our way up our first dune.

Legs aching, we climbed all the way to the top,
Our hands and feet covered in cold sand.
From the top, we could see the whole park.
Standing there with our chests puffed out,
We were nine years old again, playing King of the Hill.

In an instant, one sprinted down the dune.
Followed by eight others, the nine of us threw our lanky teenage bodies down the dune,
Hoping to God we wouldn’t fall and hit our friends like dominoes.

Cold air punched my throat, telling me to slow down.
My lungs begged for me to stop, but as a wise man once said,
“The mountains are calling, and I must go!”

Latching our frozen fingers onto slim trembling trees,
We all pulled ourselves up through a wooded dune.
Reaching the top, we found a sanctuary of green and orange.
Spreading our blankets, our nine exhausted bodies curled up next to each other.

My lungs were screaming at me to help them as I curled up under a multi-color afghan.
Cautiously, I pulled out my red, sticker-covered inhaler,
Trying not to get it covered in sand before shooting it’s healing power into my body.
Puff.
A sigh of relief before falling into the arms of a wind-breaker-wearing body,
Who would soon be my warmth for the sunset.

Indigo strings of clouds hung above the orange falling sun
Pushing it into the crashing waves of the blue horizon.
We all admired as the golden light radiated off of our frozen cheeks,
Our red noses pointed towards the almost faded sun.

Squeezing air in and out, my lungs struggled to keep up as we gathered our things.
Cold legs ran through the dusk-filled dunes,
Though my asthmatic body hung back,
Clinging to the frozen bark of the trees among me.

“Come on, dude, you got this,”
The distant shouts of my friends rang from the top of the dune.
Clutching my sticker-covered best friend and my sand-covered Camelbak,
I pulled myself up the dune.

Once reaching the top, we found ourselves back to the path.
The “Mile 4” sign had fresh frost resting over the top;
Our tired boots shuffled through the wet leaves until we found ourselves back in the parking lot.

Climbing into the cars with noses running,
The heat gusted towards us from the small heaters of the Prius.
Recovering from the trek at hand,
I mourned the loss of my ability to breathe and the warmth of my hands.

Though I didn’t mind the loss.
The warmth of the sun hiding behind the horizon and the cold wind against our exposed noses,
A slight crunch of the leaves followed by the extensive laughter of my friends,
It was all worth it.

Snow started to fall soon after that,
So it’ll be a couple of months before I visit the grave of my good ole lungs.
I hope they don’t miss me too much, but they know I’ll be back to the place where I left them.
The place where my lungs went to die.