The air is cold against her wet hair; it is seeping through her layers of clothing. She thinks about how time has flown past her, she shivers not because of the cold. The bell seems to have shrunk in these past few months. She walks on looking across the empty quad. Everything is silent. Sleep lingers in everyone’s mind. Bodies move slowly back to their cabins, their warm beds waiting. As she searches for the familiar railing on the stairs looking down-
Fall had come and gone with slippery leaves and beautiful skies, the darkness encroached like a loving blanket beckoning for sleep. She walked out of the cabin, looking at the treacherous pathway. The stars were bright, the full moon gliding over the sparkling wood. This is the last one. Our last full moon at Chewonki. The droplets of dew had frozen across the landscape, reaching every bit. It was a land of diamonds her eyes burned from cold, from the beauty, from the pain in her chest that seemed to grow every day at the thought of leaving. Lauren ran ahead, silent, leaping through the woods, up the steps disappearing into the unknown universe. She followed like a small doe, her eyes careful and wide with wonder. With each step she felt the crunching under her feet. Almost ruining this secret world. She quietly passed Binnacle, laughter muffed by wood and warmth. The stars the moon, this can’t be real, am I dreaming? As she reached the frosty quad the silence struck her. How is there so much light? Lauren came out of the shadows stealthily and with purpose. They made their way down the crooked path once again. The slippery diamonds under their feet, each of the girls had smiles of delight. Out of this magical night the sound of geese rang. Their eyes filled with focus, each thinking of that foggy memory from the beginning,
“Remember the geese fly right over our bunk?”
“Yes.”
“It was just you and me. It was just us.”
But how? Is this happening? It was meant to be. Lauren climbed on her back, slowly and knowingly. They walked down to the field, waiting for the geese to come. Instead they were left with just the stars and moon shining on their faces. Almost giving them warmth. They walked back to the path, Lauren sliding off her back just as a baby sloth gets off of its mother. Her small feet about to touch the
She was down the first set of stairs; she congratulated herself for this accomplishment by adjusting her backpack. The trees ahead were familiar. They blocked out the light, but brought beautiful shadows that made her heart delight. They were a barrier between two worlds, our world and
The fog was overpowering. It thickened the air. How? How could this happen? She walked at a slow and steady pace, the pain was excruciating. Each step was harder and harder. Her eyes were burning from tears, from looking. She was tired of searching for the steps; she was tired of searching at all. She was tired of hoping and giving. The light from home passed through the silhouette trees. The trees the barrier. They were supposed to protect me. It was bright enough to expose her worn face, but not enough to guide her home. The wood was soggy. The world seemed to slow down around her and speed up at the same time. Her eyes glossed over, unsure which direction to go
She was touching the tree, grabbing them for balance. Not wanting to think about that night. The heart that fluttered with pain, with warmth, joy. Her cheeks hurt, her mouth wide
Then the girl had just turned 17. The air had changed, winds had moved, her heart was different, full and in love, her hands calloused now. She pushed the door with a force, with a beat in her step, past the strong dark bell. The yells and laughter were clearer, the voices now known. With wide eyes she walked over the wooden path, still unsure, but somehow knowing. Headlamp gone in the scurry of life. The cabin waiting and bright in the distance the history faded, and new memories being made. The pathway was still warm from the summer air, and safe. Lauren’s arm grabbed her, pulling her as though she were a dingy lost in the unknown sea. Pulling, guiding, with love like a mother’s hand.
She had almost made it down the stairs. Remember nine. There are nine. Just count them. She knew that that didn’t work; she second guessed her instincts, thinking a stair would suddenly appear one night. She shook her cold hands trying to keep them functional. The light from Binnacle was visible now she could hear them talking; the words softened by sweaters and blankets fire and air
She forcefully pushes the door open onto the worn bridge, scurrying past the old powerful bell. The salt marsh smell travels, rolling, brushing along her face and through her hair. She searches for the railing as a small child does for its mother. The rough wood pushes against her soft hands. The last bits of summer air dampened the distant sound of people’s laughter and yelling. Just yesterday she was home in the city: hot pavement beneath her frail feet, the frantic noises whishing by, smells of cultures and waste lingering in the air. Each foot was traveling without a thought, without having to wonder where she goes. Now her feet moved slowly, cautious through this unknown land. Though her feet were searching, her mind was wild, like the ocean, strong, unsure where it would go, but flowing freely, unsure of the auburn cabin with its rich history, but new girls ahead. The wood clapped beneath her feet, each step bringing her closer to her fate for the next 4 months. The headlamp clicked on. With the unnatural light creeping up on the wooden path she walked quickly, rapidly, excited to begin.
Now those summery nights were behind her. She concurred the last few steps in the winter’s chill. She’s next to Binnacle, walking down the flat path, a runway towards the cabin. She looked at the light that felt like the sun when it shone in her eyes. With each step she felt a pull coming from the cabin: the smiles that awaited, music that was playing, the stories that would be told. The girls that had unconditional love for everyone were waiting for her to come back. What will it be like when I travel down this path for the last time? Will anyone remember? As she reached SoHo’s stairs, Rowan’s words “Oh wow, oh wow” rocketed out. She smiled at Rowan’s lovable voice and turned to the wooden path. This path that she had traveled by every night, both with tears and with laughter. With stress and with freedom. That first night she could not possibly conceive what this path would lead to and how fast the memories would come and go. She was sad, but content with the thought that her life would change, that she had a path the color of rich oak during the day and the endless sea at night. The path that had led her to extraordinary farm chores and captivating classes. Most of all it had led her home. Her head hurt from the cold wet hair that hung over her ears. She turns the frozen doorknob and enters.