My father drives the back way
to Forest Road, where it climbs into the foothills.
Some of the tallest redwoods are here,
an ancient grove, my grandfather says,
and the houses are far apart.
My father drives slowly.
Would be nice to live up here. He stops
at one house with a redbrick driveway,
and massive white columns
that reach to huge windows.
Look, see that little cabin in the back?
Behind the garage, I see an old
shack, like in a movie,
made of logs and twisted branches.
That’s an original log cabin from the gold rush.
Those things were all over this place
when the gold rush started.
Different now, isn’t it?
It is, I whisper.
He looks at me like every word I say
might mean I’m all better.
Have you met the family yet?
I shake my head no.
Yeah, they are busy people.
I see 1401 in the distance,
the castle mailbox and the dragon
spinning around it.
We stop at the driveway.
You going to be all right, Etan?
Go straight to the shop after, okay?
I’ll get you there later.
I smile, watch him turn the truck around,
wave.
The house looks the same,
the mailbox, the shoes by the door,
only this time, the driveway is full of cars.