Returning to the mountains in just two days didn't leave me much time to figure out my next move.

(This began with my posting of "At River's Bend," followed by, "He Took My Shoes."  This now, is the third installation of my continuing daymare.) 

Girl friends needed time to vent...daughters needed mom time, husband stressed and not looking forward to driving back up to Tahoe alone, again. Had to see my Chiropractor  and continue the treatment for my bulging discs and degenerating knee.  So much relief from his intuitive touch and adjustments.  Vital to my well being, as the recommended surgeries from the other side, were out of the question at present.  I would manage through the pain and focus only on the things "I can do" and not the things "I can't do."

Way too much wine with my best friends last night.  Desperately needed to share some recent family issues, we cried with her and drank too much wine. Could have been worse. Discussing the frequency with which the law was passing out DUI's like candy on Halloween, we commenced to eat more cheese, crackers and almonds.  And more Chardonnay.  It was needed.  The sharing, bonding and tight as Superglue friendship between the three of us, sustained us through failed marriages, selfish, out of control teens, disappointments with jobs, mates, waistlines and life...we just needed to let it go.

Back on the road by mid-day, I entered my usual state of euphoria as I clicked on the cruise control on 80 North.  Listened to my favorite radio talk show lawyer for an hour and shut it off.  Not even in the mood for my newly mixed CD with favorites from recent movies, I relaxed in silence.

      ~

"Are you going to do it today or put it off for a while?  You rarely return on Thursdays."  He will not be expecting you to return this soon or on this day of the week. "  The inner voice was taunting me, testing me, teasing me...the thought of dropping off the carefully chosen books, tee shirt and note...was simply titillating.  I was in a trance once again, temptation highlighted by the desire to believe in the possibility of a good deed; an extending of trust.  Was that even possible?

Having found the old hiking back pack I used years ago, hanging on a hook in the storage closet, I carefully packed the hollows with books, old and newer, but all read at least once and ones I dearly loved at one time or another.  A particular fondness for Koontz, I packed half a dozen of his. Dean always took me outside myself, on thrill rides, had me on the edge of my seat and torqued my imagination.  His stories always found the good in humanity and resolved in the end.  Man defeating evil forces, a common theme of his popular books, gave me peace of mind and relief at the end of each roller coaster diving, with the sharp twists and turns of the authors whims and ability to expose both genius and page turning fear.  

I included a hard copy of "The Prophet," and "Fearless Love," written by a former teacher I admired.  Both had inspired me at times of need and growth, between the cycles of life that can stymie us and jolt one into rapid forward motion.  There were a few others thrown in, airplane reading, poolside who-done-its, bedside table books that soothed the soul and released the brain to REM sleep and sweet dreams.

Was I completely  out of my mind?  Crazy girl, spirited curiosity, sense of something outside myself, allowing an ancestral intuition to replace sensibility and the status quo?  I wanted to go back.  I believed the odds were slim to none that he would ever return to the rock or ever know of my return to that dreaded place.  Not likely at all.  But I thought better of it or at least thought to wait a few weeks?  That taunting inner voice kept me off balance and questioned my better judgment.

Life was short after all.  I felt invincible, just as I always had, since very young, when I'd go for long walks late at night in the woods behind our house.  Watching the lights inside of the distant houses becoming dimmer as I walked further away from home.  With so many younger siblings, no one missed me during these nocturnal walks, when I talked to the stars and breathed in the night air.  It was a vital ritual that filled me with awe for the mysteries of life. the vastness of the universe, the millions of questions, unanswered.

I just knew it was in my blood.  Somewhere along the line.  It just was. Some other life that remained inside me from a time I never knew in this lifetime.  Lingering elements of existence so far away, so different from the familiar surroundings I had come to know as my neighborhood.  I heard whispers in my heart that pushed me farther and beyond my limits of awareness, pushing beyond the outer layers of my skin, allowing in the urgent inner voice that had to be heard.

I was hearing it now.  Half way up the mountain my heart began to pound that familiar beat.  Harder and more urgent from that deep place inside my chest, I knew what I must do.  Watching the river between every grove of pines, seeing the calmer waters from only a few days before...searching the boulders above the river, standing tall and ancient.  What secrets had they held for centuries.  How many inhabitants of this rugged, desperately beautiful terrain were here before us.  Scanning the topography for any sign of him, perched on some mountain top, lingering on some distant boulder, waiting...watching.  I saw nothing but the familiar dips and curves in the road, the twists along the river, the dissipating snow melt below and the same pull out and rest stops along this road I could navigate in my sleep.

But I was awake.  Very awake and sensed a purpose that was unfolding before me.  I was nearly there.  Without hesitation, I pulled over and parked in the same spot as before.  Determination overcame me with excitement.  I could do this.  Grabbing the back pack, I looked at the contents one more time.  I had tucked his note with a return message inside one of the books.  I knew he would find it.  I counted on it.  I was heading down the path to the river with a sharp sense of my deepest instincts and knowing. I was not in any danger this time.

Although I carried my cell phone with me this time, I knew it was out of cellular reception range and it didn't matter.  He had given me a message.  He    had    to    let    me    GO.  He no longer posed any threat to me and I was certain.  As I reached the bottom of the trail to the river, heading left toward the rock, shaded by a lush willow tree, I hesitated. After looking behind the rock for a good spot to leave the back pack full of books, I had a change of heart.  I was trapped by a trance of the heart and soul and it had to be just the right spot.

Wearing comfortable sneakers and socks this time, I sat down on the river's edge to remove them, stuffing the socks inside my shoes, placing them beside a bush out of sight.  Looking around, I saw no other people visiting the river at this time, no one to interrupt me or see what I was doing.  No one to stop me from a purpose I could barely define, even to myself.  I walked on foot alongside the river for several minutes, remembering every tree, every bit of broken glass, every heart pounding moment after feeling the cold sharp tip of the knife enter my side so recently.

 Was I totally crazy?  Dismissing my negative voice I kept on going till I recognized the bend in the river, where everything else disappeared from sight.  No sign of the road above, no sign of any cabins or canoes; only the sharp twist in that direction that took me far away from myself and into a darkness from which I never expected to see light again.

There it was.  The place where we crossed the river and climbed the steep bank on the far side of the river and out of sight.  Readjusting the weight of the back pack and the straps digging into my shoulders, I took a very deep breath and eased my feet into the bitter cold waters, yet again. Looking left, right, front and back, there was no one in sight.  I was alone.  Or was I?  

My ears pricked at the sound of the wind picking up and disturbing the peace of the willows.  Upward glancing at the mighty pines, they too were swaying willingly to the changing weather.  I felt a sudden urge to hurry and cross the river.  I only planned to get to the other side,  follow the trail that seemed uncannily familiar to me now and continue on until I found the log where I had first sat down to rest and later fell into deep slumber.

I arrived at this spot more quickly than I remembered.  My feet didn't hurt anymore, underneath me, stronger now and determined with a resolve that came from a place I'd never known.  There I would leave the pack; the books he requested.  And the note.

It was suddenly quiet.  The trees seemed so still; statues in nature's forum. Delegates lined up, row after row, as far as one could see.  The depth and thickness of the forest was both daunting and reassuring, that life would prevail over man, no matter the devastation man would bring upon the planet.  Nature would remain, certain and undeterred.  Man could never compete with a force with limitless distance and a history that had formed long before the universe began. We know so little of life, it's past, its possibilities, its infinity.

No more pounding in my chest, no more fear of what could happen to me. The afternoon was still young and I knew my way back, as surely as I was alive and choosing my every move without doubts...and with sheer authenticity.  I returned to the river, took a deep breath and waded into the chilly, crisp, wondrous waters that healed me.  I saw my shoes quickly, wiped the dirt and pine needles from the soles of my feet, felt the warmth of the sun beating down on my scalp.  I had done it.  

Without looking back, I followed the path back down the river, south toward the rock I will never forget, both for it's shelter and peaceful solidity underneath my body and for its mystery:  a menacing moment that swiftly changed the course of my life.  And it had.  

Walking past the rock, standing in the sunlight guiding me back to a familiar trail leading up the steep path to the rest stop, I felt a presence. There was no foreboding, no hair standing on end; no fear.  I came to a slow stop and turned around, facing north east toward the river's bend.

Feeling the wind pick up and blowing my hair away from my face, I looked upward at the leafy giants that lined the river and at the enormous boulders that stood like sentries in the stark mountain range, standing guard, so firmly rooted in the earth. Nature's outposts.

Squinting in the sunlight I saw him sitting high above the river on a huge flat boulder, looking directly down at me.  It was quite a distance and I could not make out his features in the shadows and blinding sunlight, but it was unmistakably him.  No pony tail now; only the long matte black shoulder length hair, laying across his shoulders, straight and thick.  He looked other worldly.  Immoveable and at home here.  He didn't move from his perch and stared at me for what seemed an uncomfortable period of immeasurable time.  It had only been seconds, but it felt physically heavy and surreal.  I blinked back the sun from my eyes, stood tall and turned to leave this spot.

There was an unspoken understanding between us now.  I knew this to my core and was satisfied that no harm would ever come from this.  He had watched me cross the river from the start and enter the woods with the back pack.  He knowingly observed me return without it and would find it easily, as I planned.  He would find the books, a fresh tee shirt to replace the one he had torn and used to bandage the wound he first inflicted on me.  He would eventually find the note stuck between the pages of one of the random books that filled the pack.  

It was the note he had left on my shoes that day.  A day filled with twists and turns, fears of unknown proportions and an end I couldn't have predicted in my wildest imaginings.  I wrote on the back of his note so he would know and understand something more important to me than anything I could say out loud.

"Never hurt me again."