When we were little, our grandpa would take us on long walks in the woods.
We would always start in the same place: up at the top of the hill by the water tower. There was a break in the treeline created by Papa with a tractor. Depending on when he had last cleared the route, the path could be wide, or overgrown with fast encroaching blackberry vines and alder saplings.
Usually we followed the tire marks of the tractor, but my cousins and I always begged to get
I am perpetually nostalgic and although anxious, an optimist at heart. For me, that means things staying the same, and so I will create an ending on this hill, but because it is the future, it only exists as a manifestation of the past. A future that inherently loops backward to the beginning.
So lets say, the forest still stands:
the fire comes later and the lumber company has not resolved its feud.
We decide to go on a walk in the woods.
We take the dogs.
We start by the water tower.
The trail is fairly overgrown. It’s been a while since my dad last drove up here in the tractor.
That doesn’t bother us, we won’t stay on the path long.
We decide to get