Helpless

The early morning fog made me feel light, mysterious. It hid me from the world, concealing my movements as I stepped into the forest.

The trees, casting eerie shadows as the sun rose, were my ceiling. The scattered pine needles, my only floor. I brushed my hand against the bark of the old charred redwood. It left black streaks on my fingers, the blood of a lost battle. I hopped around a young fern, careful not to crush its delicate leaves. Slowly, I made my way further and further into the trees, stopping to listen every few minutes. The creaking of old wood, the chirping of birds, the gurgling of a nearby stream. The forest is quiet in a noisy way. Not wanting to disturb the peace, I tip toed and cross stepped, knowing the way by heart. I knew every short cut, stream, twig, rock, and landmark along the way. Each tree had its own name, each slug a secret to keep. And I was the only one who knew about it.

To call this majestic place "mine" would be selfish. Because it wasn't. It wasn't anybody's. Not mine, not the landowner's, not the little butterfly's that flitted above my head. It was untamed, unknown. And I was perfectly fine with that. Because I was able to bask in its sunshine, to caress its many leaves, an to share in its beauty. It was my escape, and I loved it.

If you journey far enough into the forest, you will find that the trees end abruptly at an old fence. The fence snakes around a clear field of about two acres, and the trees begin again on the other side. It's a clearing of green grass encased in the heart of the forest. On one side is what used to be an old log cabin. It's run down and old, and has been reconstructed into a barn of sorts. The thing is musty and creaky, but still offers warmth, even comfort. It has a stall where a bedroom used to be, and an enormous loft. The front door was replaced, at one point, with two large heavy ones that slide across each other. From the outside, no one would guess that it wasn't just an old abandoned cabin.

I ran my hand along the splintering wood that made up the barn. My father and I had discovered it when I was younger, and together we rebuilt it to make it fit for keeping animals. All day he had worked while I played in the grass, making daisy chains until dusk. We didn't tell anyone about the sacred place, save Mother who demanded to know where we had been all day. Father and I visited the clearing as often as we could, bathing in its sunshine and telling each other stories. He taught me about the nearby plants, how to use them if ever I was lost in the forest. I taught him how to make jewelry out of them. We shared the place, Father and I, and we filled it with laughter, dreams, and promises.

I whistled softly, sitting on the fence as the fog lifted. A sweet nicker greeted me from the far side of the pasture, and I couldn't help but smile wildly as Melody stepped out of the hazy morning mist. She loped up to me, nudging my hands and searching for treats.

"Sorry, fatty. Not today," I teased, ruffling the horse's forelock. Laughter spilled from me as she snorted in protest. I clicked my tongue, hopping off of the fence. Grabbing a handful of Melody's mane, I hoisted myself easily onto her back and nudged her into an slow, rocking canter. We sped across the field, my hands weaved through her coarse hair. I felt complete, happy. My problems melted away, and I slowly began to forget that summer vacation was ending soon and my mom's boyfriend was moving in. It was exhilarating.

Melody slowed into a trot, and then a walk as we neared the other side of the fence. I rubbed her neck, sliding off of her back and onto the ground.

"Good girl," I cooed, stroking her nose. I traced my fingers along the long stripe that stretched down her face and from eye to eye. Mel looked almost magical in the morning sunlight, her caramel colored coat glimmering and her long, white mane and tail swaying in the breeze. I knew each mark and groove on her, each soft spot and the feel of her muscles. We were best friends, and loved each other like sisters.

A distant call pulled me away from my horse, summoning me back home. I reluctantly hopped the fence, waving to Melody.

"Bye, Mel. Mom's calling. Promise to come back soon, this time with treats!" She nickered in response. And with a dash back towards my house, I was entering reality again.