Twenty ~ Bearings

Dear M-----,

       Ah, weekend again, Heaven knows I needed a break. Classes are still settling in, but just having to get up in the morning and to class on time grew tiring after a long summer, so having a chance to sleep in and ease into the day was nice. I lingered a little over a late breakfast, flipping through the newspaper and chatting with Mrs. R-----, offering to make dinner tomorrow night. I'm not a tenth the cook she is, but I'm quite good at pancakes and the like at least, and I'd like to chip in a little, she's such a dear to have dinner for all of us every day.

       "All of us" consists of Mr. and Mrs. R-----, their son P-----, who's nine, maybe ten years old, myself, and two other students - a senior girl, I think an education major, and a sophomore guy, who's very quiet, keeps to himself a fair bit, I believe he's liberal arts so far, or so I gather from Mrs. R-----. I don't see much of the latter two, the girl keeps busy with classwork and student teaching, turning in to bed when I feel most awake; I see the boy at dinner, and occasionally out walking in the yard or the woods behind the old barn. Yet, every now and again I can catch his hazel-blue eyes with mine, and there is an instant connection - undefined, too tenuous for either of us to feel confident enough to start conversation, but there's something there all the same. Not even a romantic something, you can save your cautionary lectures for a few weeks yet, I've said no more than "hello" to the boy.

       In any case, I grabbed an old book to re-read (I'm beginning to wonder just how much what I read as a child influenced me - all these old-fashioned daydreams and contentments, I had a pretty steady diet of Alcott, Montgomery, and the like), and wandered around the property looking for a sunny spot to curl up in. I sat against the side of the barn for awhile, but the woods begged my attention far more than my book, so I decided instead to do some exploring.

       There are the beginnings of a path, but it is soon lost in the sparse underbrush and criss-crossed trails of deer and whatever else resides among the barely disturbed trees. Not far in, I saw the word "PRIVATE" freshly carved into the bark of a mid-sized maple tree, a bit below eye-level. On the other side of the tree were nailed a few boards - just enough to allow shorter arms than mine to reach the branches above and scramble up to the small platform nestled between the split of two main branches. P----- and I had a conversation about tree forts over lunch last weekend, and I'm pretty sure that was his. He had been adament about not giving away its location, but the letters and boards were barely darkened by weather, so it's too new to be anyone's but his. I won't tell him I've found it, of course - that ruins the entire point of a secret fort being secret. Unless you have decent defenses, of course - I remember having a fort amidst a large clump of overgrown burdock bushes, simply because I knew no-one else would come near, for fear of getting the tenacious barbs caught in clothing and hair. (But though i had a bit of a strategy for entering, I had the longest hair of any potential entrants, and the burdock stuck to me the same as anyone else, so I eventually relocated.)

       I wandered for awhile, following bits of trails, checking out small, fern-boarded clearings, scaring the living daylights out of a few squirrels (who later returned the gesture by munching on nuts overhead - and dropping the shells around and on me, making me jump half a mile), walking along fallen tree trunks, half-decayed and giving way at a mis-step. I saw a creek at a bit of a distance, but on approaching it, I hit a wide muddy area around it, full of marsh marigolds as tall as I. Will investigate further when I've got boots on.

       Off to one side, beyond the creek, I saw what looked like a small shack, a fort, something. Faded grey, the browning leaves of several autumns past lying prone on the roof and in small wind-blown piles along one wall. I could see about a side and a half of it, most of my view obscured by a few large bushes and the angle I was looking from. no sign of a door or window, at least from that distance, but it looked far too large and solid to be just a blind for hunting. (In any case, these woods are owned a good five, ten miles back by the R-----s, and Mr. R----- has signs up to deter hunters from his property - but not "trespassers", I noted, which is nice for a change, as that's typically what I end up being in my wanderings at home.) I looked about for any easy way to cross the creek, but no luck, as the wet area was still too wide and free of stones or fallen branches large enough to step across on. Another day.

       I got only slightly lost on the way back - luckily I spotted P-----'s fort off to the left, and regained my bearings from that. One of these days I'll get a compass, but it's more fun to rely entirely on my own memory and sense of place. More dangerous, yes, but more interesting. And stop your fretting, dear - the worse thing I'm likely to encounter in there are irate squirrels, a raccoon at most. Or a cranky ten-year old whose secret has been discovered.

       I re-entered the yard just as P----- and his father returned from running errands. He came sprinting over to me, eyes wide, breathlessly demanding to know if I'd been spying on his fort. I promised I hadn't, and he grinned brightly, proclaiming that I'd never find it, his planning was too well thought-out for such easy discovery.

       Dinner was warm and friendly, everyone crowded around the kitchen table, P----- bubbling over about the day's events, the rest of us interjecting, sharing stories of our own.

       It felt nearly like a family, something from a book.

       I mentioned my exploration - sans P-----'s fort, of course - and asked about the small building I'd seen. Blank looks from around the table - no-one had seen it before - only I caught a faint glimmer in D-----'s eye (the quiet guy, I realize I left out his name before). He looked quickly away, but I saw something - I think he's been there too. He left directly after dinner, mumbling something about studying, and I saw the large pile of dishes and offered to help, so I haven't had a chance to talk with him. but that finally gives me something to start a conversation with him, at least, which is a plus.

       Will write again soon - P----- has challenged me to a game of checkers, and you know I couldn't refuse.