The Hydra: Our Key to the Past

Spring Break 2011 came and went as quickly as Texas A&M's stint in the NCAA tournament, and as Charles Dickens once said, "it was the best of times, it was the worst of times."  The best of times because for my group of friends (a hodge-podge of old high school friends and newer college buddies) Spring Break usually means a trip to the one of the greatest places on earth, my family's lake house on Lake Travis in Austin, Texas.  Many of us hardly have time to keep in touch during the school year, but as soon as mid-terms are over it's almost like we never left Mrs. Waggoner's 12th grade Bio class.  Regardless of what college we attend or how long it's been since we last spoke, the Hydra (our nickname for the house) serves as our safe haven from the rest of the world.  Leroy, my Comm professor, would call it "hyper-reality".  However, it was the worst of times not only because it felt like the end of an era with graduation looming, but also because Spring Break will always be the dark reminder of a lost friend as well.

The Hydra was built in the '50s by my Great Uncle Ralph, who left it to the rest of our family once he passed.  I grew up spending most of my vacations at the house, so when my high school friends and I were looking for a "Last Hurrah" before heading out for our freshman year of college, it was a near-perfect choice (our first choice would have been Lost island, but I digress).  We spent an entire week there, lounging by the lake by day and climbing the tree to the roof to gaze at the stars by night.  We roasted marshmallows and played games; without a doubt a bond was formed that week at the Hydra.  While we were all friends to begin with, we suddenly became inseparable.  The eight or so of us, most of whom had barely even known each other in high school, were now closer than the Bluth family from Arrested Development (probably a bad reference, but that show had a lot to do with our friendships).  I am fairly certain I spent over 2/3rds of my freshman year road tripping all over the state to visit my friends, making sure that we would all stick together.  Attending UTSA as a frosh, I was a literal Roadrunner.  We spent enough time at the Hydra that the rest of my family should have started charging rent, with possible interest(s) as well.

 (From left: Janisch, Alli, Nick, Alya, Me in 2007)

One of my friends that was a part of the original trip to the lake was Alli Maloney.  Without sounding too cliche, she was the sweetest girl I ever met.  She hardly ever had a bad word to say about anyone and always went out of her way to show her support for me, whether it was planning a surprise birthday gathering for me, giving me relationship advice ("what were you thinking?!") or creating ridiculous "Team Smith" shirts with the rest of the group.  She gave me a cross necklace for my 19th birthday and I never took it off.  She was a great friend.  She was particularly in love with my nieces and nephew, who were all less than two years old when she first starting showing up at the house with the rest of my friends.  She always did her best to make it to the Hydra, no matter what else was going on in her life.  She was a joy to be around and we were lucky to have her in the group.  However, for some reason or another I began to take her for granted over time.  Instead of welcoming her over whenever my sister and her kids were in town, I tried to find reasons to not call her.  Her near catchphrase "When are the babies coming to town?" quickly went from cute to annoying.  I became selfish to the most selfless person I knew.  

I moved away from Texas my sophomore year and consequently my friends and I slowly began drifting apart.  College life consumed us all as we began to make new friends and lost more and more time for our old ones.  What used to be our bimonthly Hydra trip turned into one single trip in late February of our sophomore year.  Although it was just like old times, the feeling that things were not like they used to be was thick enough to grab out of the air.  I remember leaving that trip feeling that everyone was less nostalgic than ever for how close we used to be.

Then, a few weeks later, Alli died in a car accident.

It was the last weekend of Spring Break (two years ago to this day, March 21st, actually) and I remember sitting in my living room with my friend, shell-shocked and bewildered.  My mind was swimming with thoughts to how I had treated her recently: How the hell could I have been so resentful towards someone who showed nothing but genuine interest in my life?  How could something so horrible happen to someone so good?  Why not me?  I was angry with God, but really I was furious with myself for not being a better friend to her.  I remember standing outside my driveway in the beautiful Texas sun, calling all of my closest friends, one by one, and telling them the heart-wrenching news.  It was the worst time of my life.

My friends and I, who normally reconnected at the Hydra, found ourselves returning together for our best friend's funeral.  Seeing everybody mourn her was truly haunting.  She made such an impact on us without even realizing it.  To that effect, the biggest tragedy in our lives made our bond stronger.  I don't like to talk about what happened much, but very rarely does a day go by that I don't think about her.  An avid artist, her drawing of a flower hangs on the wall of my room and the cross necklace that she gave me now hangs protectively over my rear-view mirror.

Flash forward two years and most of us are beginning to feel the pressure of the real world breathing heavily down our necks.  I'll be the first to admit I have no idea what is in store for me upon graduation.  It is a scary feeling that I have not been able to shake for months.  We arrived at the Hydra and for the first time, it felt like time didn't stop.  The real world pressures are more tangible now, with several of my friends already out with full-time jobs.  No matter how much we want it to be false, the days of packing our things on a Tuesday afternoon and spending three days at the Hydra are over (one of the greatest male bonding trips of all time, BTW.)

One of the last nights during our final Spring Break Hydra trip we sat on the roof, staring at the stars just like our first time before college.  The cathartic feeling that consumed my soul made me shiver in the cool night air.  Although I'm not the same doe-eyed teenager from that original trip, I felt like a part of us never really left.  I could almost picture Alli taking photos of the lake while we continued our four-year argument on whether that was an airplane, a shooting star, or a satellite in the sky.

I'm not the best Christian by any means.  I have my struggles and my insecurities with life, but no matter how stubborn I am to try and figure life out myself, I do believe He has a plan.  Two summers ago I was able to share my testimony with several hundred people in Germany during a mission trip.  Despite being a terrible public speaker (the language barrier helped), I had enough confidence to talk about my friend Alli and her love for God.  No matter how angry I was with myself and with God, I came to the conclusion that she did not die in vain but that she shaped countless lives while she was with us.  I miss her and will always wish I had been a better friend.

As I drove back from the Hydra on Sunday, I noticed the cross necklace dangling from my car's dash, only further reminding me that although she may not be with us anymore, she is not lost. 

For me, the Hydra has been the location of many of the most important events in my life.  I have learned the true meaning of friendship and experienced a little bit of what love was like there.  I've found out how it feels to jump off of a roof and what the inside of a sink feels like.  I have watched countless bad movies there as well as experience countless shooting stars (Okay, maybe some satellites too, Alli) in the night sky.  But most importantly, I've learned that no matter how old we get, we will never forget the family we made there.

-PB