Childhood Woods

The soft crunch of leaves under my boots gave a familiar warmth inside of my chest. I hadn’t walked this trail for a few years now, more than a few years honestly. It was 11 years ago when I was last anywhere near this trail. The thought of coming to visit the old scent of pine had never crossed my mind until now. To my left, far past the trees, peaked my old house. Strangely, it still looked the same, however, the feeling of seeing it was different. I didn’t feel youthful joy or anything that you often read within stories of remembering past times. Instead, the feeling of wanting to run deeper into the woods grew. My childhood was happy, but my mind had always wanted to run away. Runaway to worlds filled with wolves, fairies, and what moose ate when they weren’t being watched. Once, I had a dream so vivid of a time I ran with wolves. 

My little feet carried me past strong trees. My hair trying to catch up, tangled with the cold air. An oversized, hand-me-down jacket swayed with my running body. Snarls and heavy breathing surrounded my head. 

“Faster!” I kept telling myself. “Faster.”

Soon, my little body would have to give up, and that’s when the wolves would tackle me down in excitement. Wrestling and gasping for a breath other than laughter would cause my head to spin more. This dream of mine, lead me on my longest sleepwalking trip. I woke up at the absolute edge of my yard. Trying to catch the wolves just beyond my fingertips. I’ve never wanted anything more.

Tightening up my jacket, I came down a steep part of the trail. Trying not to slip, I held on to branch after branch. Air nipped at the back of my neck, while shivers ran through my bones. 

“Don’t freak out! You're okay!” My sister's voice rang through my burning ears. 

She just hit me with a snowball square in the face. Tears drew down my face. I was cold, in pain and completely disoriented. 

“Don’t tell mom.” She begged, trying to hug me. 

A classic line told between siblings. Unfortunately for her, I was so upset that I tried to run back to the house. I remember getting lost between the white trees. I remember sitting down and crying for someone to help me home. It felt like hours before someone found me. A warm body came close to me, she smelled like a pumpkin, but her skin shinned like snow. Her wings were gold and fluttered with warmth. Slowly, she took me back home. She taught me how to follow human tracks. When to be quiet and when to talk. She brushed my tears away when telling me to be brave. She never had a name, so I never called her anything, but once in a while I’d come back to this tree and we’d have tea. I could always rely on her for help. 

Standing back up, my emotions were starting to run wild. I missed being allowed to have an overactive imagination. I missed that comforting feeling of when you were lost, that people would come to find you. I also miss my moms out of control laugh. Even when I was terrified she could make me laugh, then she would start laughing, and then we wouldn’t be able to stop. 

A moose scared me to death one day. I accidentally snuck up on it and instead of the moose running, I ran. I came home crying and shaking. Instead of trying to calm me down, my mom took me to see the moose. We walked back to where I was spooked. She told me to keep my breathing calm and make no fluctuations in my voice while talking. We soon came across the moose’s half-eaten lunch. 

“What do moose eat?” She asked calmly. 

“Muffins?” I asked. 

Quickly, she grabbed me and walked safely to the trailhead. 

“A muffin?!” She couldn’t stop laughing.

Now we both knew they ate mostly plants, but we couldn’t stop laughing! She always made an adventure out of fear. Yet always knew when to protect us. That night for dessert we had chocolate muffins. She still, to this day, wouldn’t tell me where she had gotten the chocolate for those muffins. 

A growling sound interrupted my thoughts. It was getting late and thinking about muffins never helped a hungry hiker. The trail began to wind sharper now. The end was approaching fast. A feeling of sorrow passed over, and I kept crunching through the leaves. 

My favorite part about this trail was the possibility of anything happening. Any moment I could come across a snake dancing in the leaves or hiding between the rocks. Loud noises could mean wind or a tripping bear trying to find food. You never could be certain for what was waiting or what couldn’t wait for you. One foot in front of the other leads you down a path into the past or the future. Today, I feel like this color-filled path is leading me into my past. 

Around the bend, a great big rock stands guard. It’s cold, uneven skin welcomes anyone to try and see above it. Slowly, I grabbed each side. My little boots fit perfectly inside step like cracks. My fingers were white from the cold, but I was determined to see the tops of the trees. One slip. Another slip, a scraped knee. 

“Don’t cry now! We must make it to the top before the monsters find us. The fairies won’t be able to find you down on the ground, so climb!” The general had given me these orders before I left camp.

The men were counting on me. Quick! Almost there! My heart floated out of my chest when I made it to the top. I let out a victory howl and threw my hat back to the starting place. The fairies had found me! With excitement, trees threw confetti and candy. We had won the war. Laying on top of the rock its’ cold skin pressed through my jeans as my toes rested against the ground. I couldn’t believe how big it once was to me. I couldn’t believe how much this trail had changed. Yet, it was still the same trail I grew up running around in. A small vibration came from my pocket letting me know it was time to pick the kids. I wonder what new adventure they will get into.