Dad always called it the wild.
I never really understood why. As a matter of fact, there wasn’t much about him I understood, and he probably felt the same about me.
“Justin, I know fourteen is a tough age. I’ve been there. Not sure where you belong, how you fit in.” Dad’s words carried on the morning Vermont breeze, mingling with the familiar wintergreen scent of budding birch trees surrounding the trailhead parking area. My eyes rolled.