Miss me not

The man stands just inside the edge of a forest. Ahead of him is the cool calm of forest growing over, around, and occasionally through a gravel path.

He was set to move forward, to progress and see what this forest would offer. What he could offer the forest.

Behind him, he heard a sound that made him look back. Honestly, it didn’t take much of a sound. He was nervous about moving ahead, as much as he wanted to leave behind what was behind.

The field reaching behind him is well-manicured, with lawnmower tracks weaving their lazy way back and forth. The sun shines down beautifully, but mercilessly. Far across the field, near where it ends and the concrete sidewalk begins, the man sees a small dark rectangle he recognizes as his laptop. If he tilts his head just so, he’ll see the sun glint off of something shiny–that’s his watch, slowly ticking away time. There’s no hint of the source of the sound he thought he’d heard.

He lets his gaze sweep the field. Beyond the sidewalk is a beautiful, well-architected building. He works (or worked) in that building. Beyond that, a parking lot of cars, varying widely in size and style and costs.

A lake off to his left supports several families of ducks. A thin trail arches around behind it, away from the building.

The man is unsure of where he’s going, but he’s sure that what is now in front of him–the manicured field, the overly-air conditioned building, the scrape of ungiving concrete, the press of technology and communications, all of it–is leading him to walk this way, away, however hesitantly.

A rustle in the forest causes him to turn back around. A small rabbit sits on the trail, nibbling on something and looking at him out of the corner of one eye. The forest is cool and shady. Insects move from flower to flower, tree to tree. It’s not the same forest as during his last journey, but it’s familiar nonetheless.

A moment more of hesitation, and the man steps into the forest. When he comes back to the field, as he always has after these journeys, his spirit will be stronger and better able to withstand the daily barrage.

Miss him not, for he is healing his soul.

2 thoughts on “Miss me not”

  1. 1. very well written. kudos.
    2. i’m glad you’re not dead.
    3. i understand and appreciate the need for soul-cleansing. the forest (be it metaphorical or not) is an excellent place to begin. i wish you much luck.

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