Wandering Souls

Sunlight glints off the snowy peak of the daunting mountain before me. I dutifully adjust the straps of my backpack for this long, uphill journey. I’ve checked everything twice, making sure I have all the necessities. However, it feels as if I’ve forgotten something.

The wind blows, ruffling my shirt like a tiny hand tugging me back, telling me not to go. But I swear I have everything I need. My backpack is stuffed full with things like snacks, water bottles, extra clothes, matches, and even a first aid kit. 

Vibrant green grass tickles my knees as if it, too, wants to hinder my hike. “I have to go,” I whisper gently. The soft earth gives a little beneath my sturdy hiking boots as I take that first tentative step. Down in the valley, the sun is warm on my face. A shiver runs down my spine and I don’t know if it’s in anticipation of the layer of snow coating the mountain as it gains altitude or mere trepidation of the perilous path I will walk. 

The sweet scent of the pines suddenly gives me courage. I will go where I have never gone before. I will leave this place behind and build a life somewhere new, somewhere no one will know me and I can become all that I’ve ever dreamed to be. 

I have no idea what’s on the other side of this mountain. It could be a lush green forest filled with the melody of birdsong and babbling brooks, the music of nature there to welcome me with open arms. It could be a barren desert that stretches beyond the horizon, dry and cracked, a mirror to this broken soul venturing forth. 

I shake my head, tossing away the fear that threatens to cling to me. Its weight will only drag me down during my climb. 

There are no trails to follow, no mile markers, no signs to direct me. I simply go where my instincts lead me. 

The entire way, I keep glancing back, alerted by the sound of shuffling feet. But nothing is there. It’s probably a rabbit hopping in the underbrush, or a squirrel scuttling up a tree. So I ignore it and hike on, yet the feeling of eyes watching follows me everywhere. 

The tall grass I march through eventually gives way to soft dirt littered with rough stones, coated in a verdant layer of moss. A wide expanse of meadow blooming with flowers is now a narrow walkway of stone. To my left is a cliff, a towering view over the valley below. I have already come so far from where I started. To my right is a wall of rock that stretches high up into the clear blue sky. 

Before me is a dead end. I frown, having nowhere to go but back. My neck cranes upward, assessing the rocky cliff face that reaches skyward. A jagged, deadly path up the mountain. 

It’s my only choice. 

Pebbles shuffle under my feet as I take a step toward the wall. Reaching up, my fingers grip a thin ledge just above my head. I’m about to haul myself up when a voice cries, “Wait!” 

Startled, I release the ledge. Luckily, I hadn’t started climbing yet. 

A little girl stands by my side, hands clasped behind her back. There’s something uncannily familiar about her. I stagger back as it hits me. She looks just like me! Only she still has her long natural brown hair, untainted by dyes. Her big, curious blue eyes still hold a trickle of that childlike wonder, but I can see the sorrow that is beginning to wash it away. The ache in my chest is nothing but a painful reminder of who I used to be, who I no longer want to be. 

“You forgot something,” the little girl says softly. 

“I know,” I reply a bit harshly. “You’re not supposed to be here.” How would I start anew, leave behind all the pain of the past, if the ghost of myself always lurks nearby?

My younger self retreats a step, hurt flashing in those ocean eyes that hold the depths of despair. They used to be filled with such radiant joy, but that was before the weight of the world crashed down on her. She merely shakes her head, pulling something from behind her back. “You forgot your helmet,” she says. Then she holds out another object. “And compass.” 

My helmet and compass! That’s it! How could I have forgotten? I laugh, shaking my head. “Where would I be without you?” I say breathlessly. My fingers, calloused with years of hard work, brush hers, soft and smooth, as I take the pink helmet and gold compass from her grasp. Out of all the things I packed, I’d forgotten two of the most important items. On this strange journey through life, I will certainly need a helmet and compass. The helmet will protect me from all the negative things that can burrow inside my brain. The compass will guide me when I have no clue where to go. 

I place the helmet on my head, buckling the strap beneath my chin, and tuck the compass into my pocket. Suddenly I’m hit with a realization. “Where would I be without you?” I echo quietly. The girl doesn’t answer, eyes darting around timidly. Maybe she didn’t hear me; we’ve always been so soft spoken. “I wouldn’t get anywhere without you!” I exclaim, taking her in my arms and twirling in a circle, careful of the narrow path we stand on. At my sudden fervor, my younger self giggles, wrapping her thin arms around my neck. 

“You forgot about me . . .” she says guardedly. I gently place her on the ground and kneel to meet her gaze. 

A tear slips down my cheek before I can blink it away. “I could never forget about you,” I whisper, pulling her close and nuzzling my face against her hair. “I thought it would be best . . . to leave you behind. To leave behind who I used to be.” Tears flow freely down my rosy cheeks now. “I never wanted to be that person–you–again. I can’t hold onto all the painful memories.” 

The little girl pulls back, shame twisting her features into a deep pout. “I’m sorry,” she murmurs. 

“No,” I say with certainty. “Don’t apologize for being yourself.” I grasp her shoulders, holding her at arm’s length, eyes locking onto hers. “I’m sorry for abandoning you. Without you, I wouldn’t be where I am today. I should have realized that sooner. That everything from the past–happy or sad or painful or lovely–has built the foundation for who I am today.” A teardrop glistens on her cheek, light and fresh like summer rain. My palms cup her face, thumbs gently wiping away her tears. I pull out the compass. “Without you, I’d be lost.” I rap my knuckles against my helmet, the sound echoing loudly in my ears. “I wouldn’t know how to take care of myself.” She laughs at that and it has me laughing too. 

However, her laughter dies too quickly, plunging us into silence only broken by the ripple of wind. “You’re really leaving?” she asks, glancing up at the towering rock wall. Sorrow hardens the lines of her face. “You’re very brave . . . and strong.” 

I rise, determination settling into my bones. “I had to learn it from someone,” I respond, ruffling her hair. 

She sniffles, rubbing the back of her hand across her nose. “I’ll miss you,” she says. “I wish I’d get to see where you go . . .” Her eyes are downcast, as if to hide the sadness tearing at her skin. I may not be able to see the cuts, but my hurtful words have left their mark. It’s time for my actions to place the bandages. 

“What do you say you come with me?” I ask. Her head whips up, eyes sparking, lips widening into a grin. 

Then her face goes slack. “I thought you didn’t need me–didn’t want me–anymore.” 

A deep sigh escapes my lungs, expelling all the grief and doubt within me. When I inhale, it is replaced with hope. “That was before I realized I’ll always need you.” My attention returns to the mountain before us. “Are you up for the challenge?” 

She grins giddily. 

With that, I pick up the fractured pieces of my past self and hold on tightly. They’ll do well to remind me of where I began, give me courage to keep going, and feel accomplished when I look back and see all I’ve done. I should never have tried to let her go. 

For one cannot expect to grow if they keep cutting away the roots that forged them. One cannot expect to truly see where they’ve gone if they forget where they began.