Farewell

I walked down the pine needle strewn path for the last time. Sunlight slanted through the trees, dappling the ground and making the mist look hazy and soft. I had run past the pit and the tree fort to the path. Where I now tiptoed through the new poison ivy growth in my bare feet. Each step was sure.

I'd never walk it again. I was saying farewell. My path led along the old paper road, over the small hand dug canal. I half jumped over the little hollow in the trail - tradition. Past the pile of rotting roof tiles perfect for pretend dishes. My hands drifted over the Japanese-Indian Knotweed leaves, the weapons and tools of so many games. My feet turned the corner, passing the thorn bushes' hanging whips. The yellow newspaper stand lay in the leaves, the train track stake still lodged in it's chest. I was at the Log. For the last time.

I checked my watch, I didn't have much time, we would be going to the airport, and Utah in only a few minutes. The intense golden light of morning had already begun to dissolve into the all encompassing light of day. At least we had been able to wait until after my graduation.

The ground was muddy and familiar. I avoided the soggy cushion and used a rock to boost myself up onto the moss covered log. I nestled among the roots and looked out over the marsh. It was a sea of cattails and purple loosestrife, with the forest far behind. A red wing blackbird flew across the blue sky. And I had to leave.