At the End of the Trail
"Hold up!"
She ran, keeping her red baseball cap with the Angel's logo in place with one hand, while giving a semi-wave with the other.
He slowed, turning back slightly, as she caught up to him, a little out of breath.
"I haven't seen anyone... on this trail... all morning... until you." She spoke around deep intakes of air."
"This is, as a poet once wrote some time ago, 'a road less travelled'. A way to travel. Yes. But this road is a trail. Dirt and stone. Leaves that have decayed. No pavement or concrete."
"Where does it go to?" She asked, as he took up strides again, moderating his long steps to meet hers.
"The trail begins," he replied, "back from where we have come. It journeys on for a while, and then, it does come to an end.
"Is it a loop trail... or one of those that my father called a lollypop trail?"
He seemed to ponder her question for a moment. "A lollypop trail." He smiled. She noticed that his face showed the lack of a razor's use over the last few days. He had that outdoorsy look, wearing jeans and a plaid flannel shirt. His hair was dark. She thought the color was close to that of a crow, or a raven.
"Yes, a lollypop trail," she laughed, realizing that her description of a path cutting through the forest did deserve at least a chuckle. "It's like this. The straight part of the trail is the stick. The loop at the top is where the candy resides, the summit, the purpose of the hike." Her eyes sparkled as she mentioned the candy. "You go all the way around and then you're back to the stick, and the end of the trail."
"Perhaps," he responded, "if this were a loop... or a lollypop, it would fit your description. But this trail is straight. It goes from one point to another. It goes from the beginning to the end."
"But how long is it?"
He let her question hang for a while, then he replied, "I have never considered the length, or the distance. I have just always thought that the trail is. I am walking in the proper direction. This I know because I have walked it many times before. It is all that matters."
She stopped, feet frozen against the warm earth. "I might not be prepared for a long hike. Neither are you. Neither of us has a bedroll. I mean, I only have a little water in my backpack. A few snacks. A change of socks... and this is embarrassing... I have pee rag. Maybe I should head back."
"No one heads back. You've begun the journey. You should finish it." As soon as he finished speaking, he began walking again. She waited until she had to run to catch up.
"I'm not prepared for this," she uttered, again breathing hard.
He responded with a soothing voice, "Some are prepared, some are not. You have good shoes on your feet. Much better than sandals. And your backpack holds some provision, unnecessary of course. There is plenty of water and food, one need to just look."
"But it will be dark soon."
"This trail is not difficult," he said, ignoring her statement. "Some are stony. Some have cliffs that need to be climbed. Some offer nothing of sustenance. Some offer no destination. But all trails, all paths, come to an end. You should not be concerned. You are beyond the most difficult portion of this trail."
One phrase concerned her. "How can a trail have no destination? Every trail goes somewhere. Even you said it... all trails come to an end. That would be the destination."
He nodded in agreement, and added, "If that is all you seek."
"Still, you know it's going to be dark soon," she said, returning to her previous concern.
"And light will follow, as it always does. Night is one end. Day is a new beginning. At the end of this trail you will find there is nothing that you need. This trail leads to a cabin. A very humble structure. One set deep in the woods. One where children like you have gathered. Do you like music?"
His question seemed odd, but nonetheless she answered, "Some."
"It is like that with me as well. Some music fills me with great joy. Some fills me with sadness. You should have a preference for that which is joyful. Sadness has no place along this road of dust and dirt."
"I get it!" she exclaimed. "This trail leads to another, and that trail will take us back to where we began."
He shook his head, and extended a finger in the direction they were headed. "The cabin is this way." His voice remained gentle, like a teacher sharing knowledge with a student. "There is no other trail, only the cabin."
"Whose cabin?" she asked, wondering if there was an answer to her question.
He offered two words in response, "My father's."
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