La Estrella - The Star

The sun had gone down by the time we reached San Diego County. On our right, we passed the twin water-power structures (a pair of boobs is what they're generally referred as) that unofficially mark the entrance to San Diego. We couldn't see the ocean but knowing it was out there in the night made this part of the trip ominous, like we were traveling along the edge of the world. At least it would have if any of us was actually paying attention. But we weren't. If we had run out of gas our incessant chatter could have fueled the car. Our high-pitched laughter was outdone only by the blaring music straining the twelve-year old speakers. Let's see, it would have been stuff like the Smiths, Depeche Mode, some Usher and Next, and a little bit of Tupac - it was 1998 after all and we were L.A. girls.

Marina borrowed her mom's four-door Honda so we could take this road trip to El Valle de Guadalupe ( a town outside of Ensenada, Mexico) where her grandparents' ranch was located. All of us had graduated high school two years earlier and scattered ourselves at colleges throughout the country. Alba was at Fresno State, Olivia at Yale, Marina and Erica at Wellesley, and I was at Berkeley. Our college lives had not completely taken over yet. The bond we shared as Garfield Bulldogs was still fed by cute handwritten letters in the mail, late night phone calls, and get-togethers during holidays and vacations.

It was probably around 10pm when we arrived at the ranch. Marina's grandparents were glad to have us, full of welcoming smiles as they led us to two large beds in a room full of mix-matched furniture and more than one Virgin Mary wall calendar. There was a relatively new but hardly ever used toilet installed. It may not have worked properly because I don't recall anyone attempting to use it. The elderly couple was accustomed to their double-seater outhouse we were inevitably acquainted with. Alba woke in the middle of the night to find her legs ravaged by starved mosquitoes- we wondered how she was the only one to get bitten and the only one who wore pants tucked into her socks to prevent it. She had to go to the restroom and decided Erica should go with her in case of snakes or wild dogs or, I don't know, El Cucoy. As it was told by Alba herself, they sat together damn near elbow-to-elbow in the double-seater outhouse - doing their business- and forever cementing the "Alba/Erica Bonding Experience" in our minds.

Their amplified giggles brought the rest of us out to a warm night underneath a perfectly starry sky. You just don't see that sort of thing in L.A. I thought I saw a bright star above my house once. Turned out to be a hovering plane. Entranced by the sheer multitude, we laid ourselves down on the grass and took in the sky. It reminded me of an old Lite-Brite I used to have - all those glowing little pegs stuck onto a black background. I remember thinking this is a moment. One of those moments you'll look back on and wish you could live again and again. Maybe somewhere inside I knew these moments we shared would become fewer. As time goes by we'd most likely see less of each other. But that sky didn't believe in time or most likely. That sky only offered possibility.

In the stars we saw our futures and they were dipped in adventure, knowledge, romance, achievement, and everlasting friendship.