A walk in the woods
By
Janet Baldey
I am happy, I suppose, or perhaps
‘content’ is the better word. I have a
comfortable home and enough money to meet my needs, but something is missing,
and I know very well what it is. I have
no sense of belonging. I float through life without touching or being touched,
so that, although it is Marcus who died, sometimes I feel I am the ghost. But,
unlike Marcus, I exist and as I do not believe in the afterlife, my outlook is
barren.
All
the above was the truth as I saw it yesterday, but today, something has
happened that I can’t explain. Nor do I
want to, for that would destroy the kindling of hope that has fanned a spark of
life in me.
This morning, I
took my dog Casper
for a walk in the woods. Our routine
doesn’t vary, a fact that Caspar doesn’t seem to mind. Morning and evening, we walk down the road
leading to the copse other people call a wood.
It is late autumn and for the
last few weeks the weather has been foul, raining incessantly day after day, sometimes
so heavily a grey sheet covers the windowpane. Today was no exception and when I reached the wood
rain was streaming off my waterproof.
Splashing through the mud, Casper
bounded ahead while I followed more slowly, for fear of slipping. The weather had silenced the birds and all I
heard was the drip of raindrops falling from sodden leaves and the squelch of
saturated earth. The usual dog walkers weren’t
around which didn’t surprise me. Given
the choice, I would be at home, warm and dry while the elements did their worst,
but I don’t have a garden, so I had no choice.
Except one, I could cut the walk short.
This, I decided to do and called for Casper who had disappeared. I called again but no dog. I think I must explain at this point, that
Caspar is an obedient animal, or rather he realises that a reward follows
obedience, so I was surprised, but not alarmed. He’d probably caught the smell of fox which
always wipes his mind, so I continued my usual route, all the while looking out
for him. As I did, I noticed the absence
of colour, the hawthorn berries, normally bright, were dulled by a film of
mildew as were the hips of the wild rose while the lazy fronds of Queen Anne’s Lace
had collapsed and were lying bedraggled in the mud. All this affected my spirits, so much so that
when I reached the wood’s boundary and entered an area of parkland, I was glad
to be free of its oppressive atmosphere.
At almost the
same time as I emerged, another figure appeared from a track on the opposite
side of the park. It seemed another
walker had braved the rain. I looked for
the dog for it would be odd, not to say ominous, for anyone to be out without a
pet in these conditions. Sure enough, I
saw the tip of a tail whisking thigh high just above the grass, and I relaxed. But not for long. They drew nearer and as my eyesight focussed,
I stopped abruptly, shocked. The tail
was Casper’s. Then following on, as sudden as a lightning
strike, came another shock. The walker
was Marcus. I was immediately sure of
it. I recognised his odd, shuffling gait,
the stigmata of his disease. I
recognised his ancient green anorak that he insisted on wearing although it was
both tattered and torn. I recognised so
many things that had been burned into my psyche through the years. Yet, it couldn’t be! I must be dreaming. I pushed back my hood, lifted my head and
felt the icy rain freeze my face. I
pulled at my hair and ground my nails into my hands and felt the pain of
consciousness. Then I looked again, and nothing
had changed. Marcus was stumbling
towards me with a delighted Casper
frisking about his heels. As I stared he
looked up and a thrill ran through me.
His eyes, which towards the end had been dull and listless, were bright
and alive. The eyes of a young man in an
old man’s face. His eyes as they had
been when we’d first met. He smiled, then
turned and disappeared into the wood. My
heart hammering, I ran to where I’d last seen him. As I pushed my way through the bushes, I came
across a cottage. A cottage, with roses
round the door. Our cottage! The one we’d made our home. As I stared, Marcus appeared at a window and
beckoned for me to join him. But, for some
unknown reason, I hesitated, and immediately a look of abject disappointment clouded
his face and his image started to fade, together with that of our cottage. Immediately, I changed my mind, but it was
too late and I was left behind, again.
I lick my lips,
they feel cold and dry and taste of winter.
I regret many things in my life, but none more than that moment of
hesitation. Except, now I am left with a
feeling of hope that won’t leave me. For
this reason, tomorrow, and the next day and the next, I will return and who
knows, I might find him again.
Copyright Janet
Baldey
