Freedom

Sunday, November 8, 12:30 p.m.


Part One - SICK OF SITTING.

I have no intentions of sitting on my log today, while Manny has all the fun running around.  As soon as we enter the woods, I free him from his harness.  We continue past our usual spot, and I tell him we're on a journey for the tree house, today.  I've talked in earlier blogs about the tree house my friends and I built as children, so my plan was to see what still, if any, existed of it.  The sky is clear and ocean blue as the sun bursts through the trees.  The trail is covered with crisp leaves that crunch under our every step.  An opening off to the side of the trail under an umbrella of vines and branches catches my attention.  Manny follows me into the brush.  Burrs and jaggers rip across my clothing.  I push through; Manny bobs and weaves slipping through the weeds with ease.  I really have no idea where the tree house would be exactly.  The woods have changed, morphed, after thirteen years.  So I just go where the woods take me.  Ahead beyond a line of trees is another opening.  Once past the line, an area spotted with patches of long grass rolls up and over a mini-valley that eventually meets the beginning of a creek.  At the merger of the small hill are a tree that has vines and another fallen tree entwined throughout.  I feel the need to climb.  First, I pick up a large branch and break it in half.  This should keep Manny busy, while I attempt to regain some of my childhood.  It does.  I step onto a hanging vine that acts as a ladder rung to boost me up to the tree.  This is exciting until my next two steps cause for excessive bending and cracking.  I figure Manny isn't going to be a good spot, so I jump down.  I tried.  Maybe in my younger days I could have made it a little higher.

I find it interesting how people use the woods as a garbage can.  I continue my journey finding two separate trampolines in two completely different areas.  One of them works perfectly.  Manny stares head cocked to the side, as I jump arms and legs flailing.  The leaves that covered the black surface spring around my knees and float through the air.  After Manny becomes restless, I hop back to the ground.  Near the trampoline I locate my staff; its fit for a king.  The walking stick is massive and sturdy enough to help me through some of the unstable ground.  Scattered throughout the weeds and across the ground are lightbulbs, empty chip bags, plastic buckets, etc.  When I reach the other trampoline it is bent and busted leaning upright against a tree.  What's wrong with leaving it in front of your house for the garbage man?  I guess that'd be too easy.


Part Two - SHOULD HAVE STAYED SITTING.

I come to a small tree that is worthy of being photographed.  Since I don't have a fancy digital camera, I usually use my fancy phone camera.  Well not anymore.  It's not in my pocket.  I know for a fact I brought it with me, because I remember looking at the time when I entered the woods.  The destination has changed.  I back track as best as I can, even going to get my twelve-year-old brother to help in the search.  My own personal search party - Manny and Sammy.  The tree I failed to climb shows no signs of my phone.  Maybe it fell out when I was jumping on the trampoline.  Nope.  We, of course, find nothing.  On our way back home, we do find a couple neat spots.  We sit on the ground under a covering of fragile branches that are weaved perfectly, like a throw.  I listen to Sammy tell me about his adventures in the woods with his friends.  He tells me about their tree house.  We exit the woods covered in burrs and bloody scratches.  The woods have freed me for the time being.