Courtney Mifsud
Walking through the forest behind my house, I stayed on the path before me. It was
no trail, or intentionally made path, but the result of a repetition of the same journey
time and time again. For years now, maybe three or four, I’ve chosen this exact route
into the deep reaches of my sylvan escape from reality. The first time I discovered
this trek was when I found out about the split. Mom had sat me down at the kitchen
table, armed with a mentally scripted speech to present about all of the reasons and
results of their decision. I knew it all before she even opened her cherry-red lipstick
lined mouth. Without a word I rose from my seat, stepped through the back door,
and sprinted into the woods, not caring where I ended up, just that I couldn’t be
there.
Mom didn’t follow. I had always been a somewhat eccentric child, and she knew I
was just processing this in my own way. Several hours later, I returned and took my
seat at the kitchen table. My glassy eyes blinked as mom recited her beautifully
memorized speech. Her words washed over my brain like waves washing against
rocks on the beach. I heard nothing, only stared over her shoulder at the entrance to
the woods outside, anticipating the next time I would take that journey again.
There have been many times since then that I’ve repeated the same path. When my
first boyfriend left me for the girl that cheated off me in science class. When I didn’t
make it into the one and only college I applied to. This path has been my escape for
quite some time now.
So here I am again. Dragging my feet along a path so familiar that I could close my
eyes and without fail step over every fallen tree branch, around every collection of
autumn painted leaves. The monotony of the journey serving as a medium of
comfort as opposed to inducing boredom.
As I continued along the path, the leaves crunching beneath my feet adding even
more to the path I created, I came across an oak tree that I considered a friend by
now because of how often I’ve seen it. I ran my fingers over the coarse bark of its
trunk, absorbing and memorizing the intricate web of patterns the bark made. As I
did so, my fingers halted in shock at the strangest of sensations. For a fraction of a
second, I swore and I still swear to it, that I felt the tree exhale a shallow breath. I
felt the rise and fall of the tree trunk as if it was a chest releasing an exhausted
breath. I pulled my fingers away sharply, not wanting to disturb the breathing oak
before me. That would just be rude.
I went to step away from the tree and continue my journey but was stopped in my
tracks by a rift in the monotony. I came to a fork in the path, one way continuing on
the path that I had forged myself, the other was an almost identical path leading in a
new direction, one I had never seen before. I stared down the new path, trying to
figure out where this one would lead. I couldn’t see further than a few feet before
the path turned again even further out of my realm of vision. This one would be a
complete mystery.
An unrecognizable urge for spontaneous adventure came over me. An urge I had
only felt once before, the original journey to forge the original path. So I exhaled a
breath similar in nature to the one my dear oak friend had just released and began
to walk down the new path.
As I made my way through this new trail nothing seemed familiar. I mean, obviously
I recognized what objects were. I knew that I was looking at a birch tree when I saw
one, but this tree was no friend of mine. There was no familiarity. It was like
stepping into a new classroom on the first day of school. You know that all of the
faces around you are just fellow school children, but you still wonder what they all
think of you, if they would accept you. I wonder what this birch tree thought about
me.
This trail lead me to a clearing like none I had ever seen before. The trees parted and
after a few yards of meadow rocks formed a border surrounding a lake so crystal
and clear it looked more like someone’s backyard pool than a creation of mother
nature. I strode cautiously over to the rocks, locking my eyes on one that was
painted black by the water of the lake. It was so close to the water it must be the
only rock that got to bathe when wind or whatever forces of nature created subtle
waves in the body of the lake.
I sat on top of the rock, not caring if its dampness caused an embarrassing mark on
the rear of my pant. I swung my legs in front of me so that my toes danced timidly
along the smooth edges of the water, barely getting to taste its coolness. Curiosity
came over me as I leaned forward, staring down into the depths of the lake.
My vision was blocked by my own reflection. My lips pursed into a disappointed
frown as I was unsatisfied by the image in the mirror. I slammed my hand into the
water, causing the slight waves to ripple and destroy the reflection staring back at
me.
The water reformed again, to make me face my unsatisfying reflection. However,
when it did, the reflection before me was not the same. It was me, that wasn’t a
question, only it just wasn’t. It was me only better. It was my skin only tanner. It was
my smile only brighter. They were my blue eyes only bluer. I raised a hand to my
double and it did the same, just like a mirror. I delicately laid my hand on top of
hers, palm to palm. Only, something was different. Her fingers should have mirrored
mine, one behind the other. This time, her fingers staggered mine, each of hers
filling the spaces between mine.
And then, sharply and suddenly, she clenched her delicate fingers into a fist and
yanked me so hard I tumbled into the crystal water before me. Once inside the lake,
it was not as clear as the outside. I could only see as far as my own hand in front of
my face. Everything else was a mix of various blues and shadows. The only image
coming into view was my better half again. She flashed me a glorious and
sympathetic smile while raising one of her hands to my cheek. She brushed her
fingers curiously against the side of my face then gently pecked my forehead with
her lips, as if she were an older sister comforting me before going to bed.
Before I had time to respond, I felt my lungs tighten. I suddenly became aware of the
fact that I was under water and therefore not able to breathe. I thrusted my arms
down to my sides and kicked my legs frantically, remembering that I never learned
how to swim. Somehow I managed to emerge onto the surface and pull myself onto
the rock I had been sitting on. I looked back into the water, trying to find the image I
now considered a separate person, but she wasn’t there. Instead I saw my original
reflection. The one that had not been to my liking only a few minutes ago.
My pale skin didn’t seem to need any tan. My smile was just as bright as it needed to
be. My eyes were just the right shade of blue. There was nothing special about that
other reflection because I now see there was nothing wrong with me.