The Oregon Trail: Gerald Hyland

May 23; Ash Hollow

I'm exhausted, and even now it's an effort to move my pencil across the paper. The uphill journey was tiring, and after that we even had to cross a mile-long river. The water was only about a foot high, but it was still a nuisance, lifting my legs over the water and putting it down in a way so that it wouldn't make a large splash.

Naime was being the optimistic dork she was and splashing around the water when we started, but then she got tired and even fell, so she had to walk through the rest of it soaked and exhausted. But hey, at least she didn't sit on the wagon and slowed us all down.

For most of the trip, Michael and I were simply talking about our plans when we get to Oregon. I told him about wanting to be a writer, and he got excited when I told him about the story I'm planning. I normally don't talk about my stories, but Michael wanted to hear it. Most of the time I like to keep my stories to myself and have it be a surprise to everyone once it gets finished or published, but Michael seemed really interested in what I had to say. Maybe that's just the way he is.

Then, Michael talked about how he wanted to open some sort of shop. He doesn't exactly know what kind of shop yet, but he said, word for word, "it's going to be great". I don't exactly know what would be the best job for him, but he tells some pretty good stories. Who knows? Maybe We could work together, writing our own stories and editing each other's if he does decide to become a writer like me. That would be pretty great.

Heh, I just saw Crispin getting his hand burnt when he touched the pot of soup my mom's making. Oh, he's crying now. My uncle's taking care of him, though, so I'm sure he'll be fine. He's already seventeen anyways, so he can take it.

Speaking of ages, Naime is twenty three years old, four years younger than me (which really isn't very long, honestly) yet she still acts like a child.

I'll stop now before I start another rant.