The glow from the sun was soft and enchanting as it filtered through the light canopy of green above me. There were a few places for campfires along the edge of the stream. After a long day of travel I had decided that this was definately the place to camp for the night. It seemed to speak to me of peace and a good night's sleep. Actually, I think it did speak to me a few times that night, but the faint phrases and soft laughter I heard I could only dismiss as the stream's mumblings.

Night came on quickly, as I recall, and I soon tired of watching the little fire peck and gnaw at the small logs. Settling down to sleep, I lay for a time just listening to the various sounds around me: the water rushing and gurgling in its own bed, the fire as it snapped apart a thicker branch, and the wind above, playing with the leaves and needles of the treetops.

Just as I was thinking that the water nymphs must surely be toying with me again, I saw a light flashing through the woods from upstream. More voices followed the light as it came down the riverbank.

As it turned out, the noises were not water nymphs but, instead, belonged to teenagers. Upon spying my fire, they approached and apologized for disturbing me. We introduced ourselves and talked for a moment or two. When they heard I was alone, one of them asked, "Aren't you lonely?"

They then left to make their own fire, leaving me with that question (I'm not even sure what I said to answer it, but it apparently satisfied them) and an invitation to join them.

I sat thinking by myself for some long minutes more. In some ways, I had with me much company: my own thoughts and the world around me. When I looked inside deeper, though, I knew that I was lonely for the touch of human contact. Just like packs of wolves and prides of lions, humans are very social creatures.

With that thought did I go join their group, seeking the warmth and happiness of a community fire. In my experience and travels, the thing most dear in my memories will always be my true friends. Only in the moments of crisis do they truly become apparent just who they are. Offering freely what is not asked for, giving of themselves what is needed. I think we all need more companions such as this. They help us weather the storm of troubles that pours down every once and a while, and they join us in our flights of glory.

The teenagers were very friendly and also a bit saddened. This was to be their last year together, most being seniors in high school. I remember hearing more then one expressing doubts as to where he or she was going after this year.

One fellow I spoke with was rather thoughtful as we sat on worn logs by the merrily blazing fire. He told me how good it was for him to have someone new to speak with. He felt he could be so much more honest with me, for I had no prejudices of his character. I had no mould of him that I should force him into before we spoke.

How right he was, I thought, for I felt the same way in speaking with him. Here was someone who would not say that something was `wrong' with me when I offered a new train of thinking. How could he? He didn't know what was right with me.

In this manner we communicated openly and honestly, developing trust and respect for each other quickly. If only more people could see the value of such openness and speak their minds and hearts truly, instead of just what others wanted or expected to hear. Then we might have the basis for a `better way,' one which I have heard many people speak of vaguely, though with much hope.

Many have been the times I've regretted holding back the depths of my feelings, but I have found that often the burning they cause is as purifying as it is painful. And rarely have I ever regretted experiencing those truths. For if the climb is hard, the view is always spectacular at the summit.

That night, when I finally went to sleep, it was sound and long and, best of all, restoring.