To Be Lost Again: The Journey

To be Lost Again: The Journey

I don't recall how I came to be wandering along this beaten and weary path. There are various weeds, Dandelions and Buttercups, scattered along the trail and branches, plants, and poison oak have overgrown the debris strewn pathway, claiming it triumphantly as their own. I push my way through anyway, following along, my dingy sneakers crushing the decaying leaves from autumns passed as I meander aimlessly. I can hear the birds calling out from in the treetops and I wonder idly what they're chattering about. The path twists and turns restlessly, but still I follow, refusing to be thrown off.

It may be strange to say, but as I look behind myself, the path I've followed has disappeared; it only lays before me, not behind me. I can only turn back to face the front. I am not afraid though, as I do so. I notice that not far ahead, perhaps only a few steps, there is a cracked and dirty Styrofoam cup sitting sadly on the left side of my path and I am curious. The cup is nothing interesting, but what's inside might catch my interest.

Before I even realize that I am moving towards the cup, my legs are pulling me hurriedly. I very nearly run to it. I bend down to peak inside the semi-destroyed rim of the cup and discover a tiny emerald-sheened beetle scurrying frantically in circles at the bottom of the cup. I smile as I watch him. I reach out for the cup slowly and tip it ever so gently onto its side, freeing the disgruntled creature. The insect disappears almost instantaneously once I have released him and I grin. I pick up the cup and manage to cram it into the pocket of my jacket, breaking the brittle plastic into pieces within the confines of the pocket. I don't really mind though, knowing that I will be saving other unsuspecting creatures from suffering the same fate as the poor beetle.

I stand up straight once more, stretching as I breathe in a deep, lingering breath. There is the scent of moisture in the air and I imagine there is a stream nearby. I am not mistaken as I begin to walk again, stumbling upon a winding stream just a scant few moments after my acquaintance with the beetle. The water dances playfully over the pebbles beneath its surface. I listen to it whispering and giggling to itself as I watch it. Newborn minnows swim against the childish rush of the stream's current, their silvery scales glittering in the dappled sunlight hitting the water's clear surface.

I tilt my head, allowing my eyes to memorize the scene that stands before me. The stream runs directly across my pathway, but I don't mind one bit. It's not very deep and even though there seem to be stepping stones set atop the water's edges, I find myself already slipping the laces free of their knots with deft and nimble fingertips and sliding my well-loved sneakers from my otherwise bare feet. I set them aside and seat myself on the uneven and naturally crowded ground of the trail. I run my hands over my hair, brushing the silky, spider web fine strands from my face and eyes before rolling up the legs of my pants, wrinkling them carelessly.

When I am back on my feet with my size-sevens tucked safely under my right arm and I've brushed the dirt from my hands and backside, I am ready to make my way across. The stream isn't even very wide. I am almost disappointed that it will only take me seconds to waltz through it. The water is cool, but not cold and I am grinning in spite of myself. I had been expecting it to be chilly.

The minnows stray from their shimmering schools, avoiding my seemingly giant feet as I splash through the brisk water towards the opposite edge of the stream. The pebbles at it's bottom tickle between my toes and a lone jade-coloured leaf floats diligently between my legs as I walk. I watch it for just a moment before moving on. It takes only seconds to reach the other side. I wish the stream had been wider.

I sit again when I reach the shore and dry my moist feet as best I can with the sleeve on my coat before yanking my sneakers back on. Not bothering to tie the faded laces back up, I merely tuck them into the sides of each shoe and continue on my stroll. My damp pant legs unfurl themselves as I walk. Insects and tiny animals skitter on the outskirts of the path as I crash through the the trees, my steps kicking stones and cracking dead branches.

There is something in the distance, I notice. It looks like a house of some sort and I can't wait to take a look. I'll reach it soon, so I don't rush, but take my time instead. I let my gaze travel over the scenery, taking in every detail of my surroundings. I don't want to forget this place after all, especially since this path disappears.

I am at the house, if you can call it that, before I can blink really and I am searching for a window. I find one almost immediately and I have to rub at the grimy pane to see inside. I squint as I peer into the shack through the filth-encrusted glass.

Inside, there only seems to be one table and one chair. They both look aged, antique and rickety. The chair is in one corner and table stands proudly in the center of the single room. A lonely glass lays tipped on its side, imaginary contents pouring from its lips. The house is obviously abandoned, all of the furniture covered in a film of ancient dust. I smile broadly, looking into the lonesome room. There doesn't even seem to be a door to get in. I ponder that notion briefly before moving back onto the path.

I wander on, jogging for short distance until my breath runs short and I feel my blood rushing through my veins exhilaratingly. I stand still for a moment and then close my eyes, spinning myself in tight circles, my arms flailed wide. The wind in my hair tugs and pulls in all directions and I slowly come to a stop.

I don't open my eyes again until I am sure that the dizziness has subsided. As I do finally, my vision focuses on a glint snatched from the corner of my eye. I blink to make sure I'm not insane and crouch to pick up the tarnished silver of an elderly key. It seems odd that a key should be here, placed so eloquently on the forest floor, enshrouded by poison oak and dandelions. I run my hands over the trinket furtively and examine its ridges carefully. It's not very unique, just tarnished and plain really. It's long and only has three ridges altogether and the top is just a hoop, nothing more and nothing less.

It's heavy in my empty jeans' pocket, but the weight is comfortable and I am already on my way again, humming a simple tune now that I have found a treasure. It seems that today has been a lucky day for me and I am pleased with how it's progressed. I only hope it will end just as well.

As I hum along, my steps pattering lightly on the ill-trodden path, I pay attention to nothing in particular. That is of course until the buck crosses my path. The young deer stops in his tracks and regards me silently, his chocolate eyes sizing me up and deciding if I'm a threat. I watch him as he watches me and I'm not afraid. I'm actually thrilled to see him. His antlers are enormous on his head and I wonder how he possibly keeps his head up straight like he is and he looks so regal, I almost wish I could take a picture. But I wouldn't want to startle him.

Several moments tick by, barely more than a pinprick in the belt of time that's passed while I've been on this trail. I smile at the buck and he nods his head, apparently satisfied that I am no threat to him before he trots off into the foliage on my right. What a magnificent creature he was. The smile stays on my lips as I bound along once more.

I don't even frown as I come to stand in front of a pile of oppressive rocks. The jagged outcrop is not so intimidating as I search for the hand holds I know I'll need to climb it. I can see them easily and I know I can make it over the makeshift wall. I bend, falling to one knee quickly and tie my sneakers tightly before attempting the feat ahead.

It takes longer than I had expected to get over the rocks, but I manage it. My knees are scraped and bruised and my coat and pants are torn as I land on the ground on the other side of the stones. I don't mind. It was worth seeing the beauty I behold now. There is a clearing just ahead on the path and I sprint towards it, ignoring the burning in my joints. The stars are out above me and I can't take my eyes away from the brilliant indigo velvet of the night sky, the multitude of winking lights meeting my intent gaze. And I find myself to be pleasantly lost once more.