Short Stories
Out and under, over and over my legs turn as I glide down the familiar trail. I see each breath in the air, which bites at my nose, cold and sharp. Running through the snow, I begin to miss the reassuring crunch of fall’s leaves beneath my feet, and the resounding beat of my footsteps on the gravel during the summer.
I slow to tiptoe through the muck of a bend, the path untouched by snow. Head down, I look for dry spots or rocks to place my anxious feet. The crackling snap of a dry branch behind me brings my head up and I look over my shoulder, only to see a ten-point buck crossing the path, oblivious to my presence. He is a regal creature, strong and proud. Having completely stopped picking my way through the mud, I watch as he nimbly springs up a snow-covered hill. He walks out of my sight, but I do not continue on my way.
A fiery red cardinal flies in undulations in front of my path before settling on a branch of an oak; his feathers are a stark contrast to the dry, brown bark of the tree and the bleak, gray skies above. His clear and bright song echoes throughout the bend, and it is as if he is saying, “Here I am, look at me. Am I not beautiful?” He then flies away, but still I do not move on.
Listen.
Can you hear that?
... A beautiful silence.
Under the canopy of trees I close my eyes, letting the silence wash over me. I thank God for this moment and open my eyes, refreshed, ready to continue forward. No thoughts run through my mind. Out and under, over and over my legs turn once more.
I turn sharply onto a deer trail and ascend an inclination, taking me behind the farm, still in the woods, but soon the trail empties out onto a hill. As I walk down the hill, so as to not slip on the ice-covered snow, I realize how much I have missed ‘the park’. It has been a locus of refuge, a gateway to many adventures, and a place of much growth. As I reflect on how much of my time has been spent here, I remember that I first prayed to God… my God… in this park.
A ray of sunshine peeks through the clouds, as if to test the waters, then disappears behind the blanket of clouds before pushing them aside completely, allowing itself to emerge. I reach the bottom of the hill and run across the deserted road towards a new path, soaking up the new found warmth of the sun’s rays. It is slight, but makes all the difference on a cold, January morning. I pick up speed along the winding road as I make my way towards the curve that sits kitty-corner behind my house. From there I spring through the woods towards our barn, bounding over fallen tree trunks and weaving around prickly bushes that have lost their leaves to winter. I slow to a walk as I pass the leaning, mossy barn and naked trampoline, trudging my way across our snowy yard. Home again, home again, having reveled in the glory of God’s new day with a clear mind and a prayerful heart.
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I enjoyed the walk, but somehow wanted a little more of an ending. The walk was tremendous.
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