My family had, after a great deal of prodding from neighbors, finally decided to climb Sugarloaf Mountain, a *monadnock in northeastern Maryland. So the four of us, my mom, my two sisters, and I bundled into the car at nine in the morning, still rubbing our eyes (it really is too early to get up on a Sunday), and drove for over half an hour, getting steadily more and more bored as we headed out from our cozy neighborhood in Potomac all the way out to Dickerson, Maryland. When our destination was finally reached, we slid out of the car, ready for anything as long as it was an adventure.

Up we went. The clear, cloudless sky made the sun seem blinding and hot on our backs as we trudged over the dirt trails and scrambled over boulders the size of houses; and quite steep at that. Hours later, the top was a welcome sight for sore eyes - and feet for that matter. It was wonderful! Rocks enormous and pebble covered the ground in a twisting maze of crevices, caves (very small ones), and platforms. My sisters and I climbed, threw stones both at each other and over the drop that gave way to the forest far below. We hid giggling in the shadow of a deep overhung crevice for hours, the rock above us streaked red and white, grey and gold, shimmering mysteriously in the sunlight. It was enthralling.

Then it was time for lunch. We sat on a large, highly-raised boulder with a flat top, my little sister Aiko, 4 at the time, my older sister Mariko, 10, and me, 8. Aiko sat with her legs stretched out in front of her, munching on her self-made mayonnaise and pepper sandwich and spilling water all over herself every time she drank. Her light brown-nearly blonde hair shone in the sunlight that was filtering through the thin layer of leaves above us as it hung around her shoulders and perfectly framed her small, big-cheeked face that held her curious, big brown eyes which, apparently (much to me and Mariko’s dismay), were irresistible to grownups. Mariko sat cross-legged to my right, ignoring everything else in the world as she slowly savored her turkey, mayonnaise, lettuce, and tomato sandwich. Her long, dark brown hair was in a ponytail, her dark brown eyes closed in exaggerated enjoyment, and she had “forgot” her glasses at home again. Aiko watched her jealously. She was not, for some unfathomable reason, enjoying her mayonnaise and pepper sandwich, and though we all knew she hated tomato and lettuce, she couldn’t think of anything that could possibly be better than having exactly what her big sister had (and apparently was enjoying so much).

That rock was soon christened Vulture Rock, for as we sat there, our stomachs full, and gazed out at the forests and lakes below us, the trees swaying and displaying their leaves of red, gold, purple, and green.  As the faithful autumn breeze swirled through them, we noticed the animals soaring over a small patch of woods. Only small black shadows against the bright sky, the sun at its zenith--and suddenly we all seemed to get the same idea. We all three lay down against the warm stone, closing our eyes, and struggling not to laugh or breathe as we played dead for these scavengers out for a meal.

Note: Ironically, upon further investigation when we got home that day, we found that the birds actually were turkey vultures.