The moment I step into the woods, it's like I'm in a different world. The trees hush the roar of cars from the highway. I drove in, but even there, standing next to my car, I'm a different person. This is no longer my car, the life I came from no longer matters, because I'm on a journey. I cross neatly to the trail head. No one else is around, just how I like it. The sunlight filters through the canopy painting the needle-strewn ground in shadows like an intricate lace pattern.
I step foot onto the trail and I can see myself, the brave adventurer with my sword at my side, stepping onto the same trail to complete some fantastic deed, to save the world even. Every rustle in the undergrowth is a gremlin or an ogre to fight, every shadow, a demon lurking. after fighting innumerable trolls and demons, I reach a stream. The brave adventurer ducks her head down and drinks, great gulping drinks of the cool fresh water. she splashes some on her face and readies for the inevitable next battle.
But the hiker pauses before the drink. She pulls a water bottle out of her pack instead. She carries no sword, no weapon of any sort. The hiker follows the trail ahead. the shadows no longer demons, the rustles no longer monsters. but the forest remains the same. hushed, and yet thrumming with life and sounds. I don't need the brave adventurer in these woods. The hiker is enough. but maybe I just need to be me.
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