This afternoon was just amazing. The coloring of the autumn leaves were stunning, the air was crisp, a chilled bite that was common this time of year, with only a handful of clouds in the sky.
His pace along this trail had purpose and hoped to make his destination before the sun set beneath the western hills.
The flora and fauna seemed to be trying to grab his attention. Maple, oak, and aspen were just gorgeous. Squirrels scampering through the trees, the occasional rabbit running by, deer feeding on the grasses, and herons, oh the herons! He had always been in awe of these gorgeous birds. Between their patient, delicate steps as they fished and their ability to navigate their large wings between the trees as they flew was a sight to see. The hawks circling above were graceful as well. Their strong wings made keeping aloft seem so effortless, the occasional swoop on unsuspecting prey was done with focused, as smaller animals found themselves scurrying to safety.
And there he was, barely 30 minutes away from the busyness of one of Americas largest cities, in a setting that felt oh, so far away from it all.
Lee had spent more than a little time on these trails since he was a kid. Some of his fondest memories growing up involved his father who would take him fishing along this very stream several times a year. In High School, he would join his friends as they would swim along many of the same spots, bringing tents for camping, and the occasional beer or cigarette they were able to acquire.
This place was filled with memories. Memories of a time that was so much easier. This forest would become a sanctuary over time; a refuge, an escape, a place where he could simply get away. More than a few times Lee found his soul calmed a pair of hiking boots, a fishing rod, and a few hours away.
That was what brought him this particular day. The need to get away.
With growing responsibilities which included a job wrought with big projects, low budgets, and short timelines, an inordinate amount of office politics. He didn’t feel as though he could ever to do much right in the eyes of leaders and peers alike. So he began searching, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t ever seem to find a new place to work, inside the organization or out. He so desired to step away from the drudgery of the place, even if the new place would eventually become more of the same.
At home, kids wouldn’t stop fighting. They always seemed to be getting in trouble both at school and home. One of the two always seemed to be picking a fight. He would hit and kick for no apparent reason then resort to screaming and blowing his top when asked to stop or put in time out. The other, a perfectionist, who was normally a great kid, but would lose his cool when things didn’t go as he thought it should.
Lee’s parents continued to ride him about just about everything … where he lived, his job, the way he dressed, the car he drove, and even their grandkids. They were always griping about everything from eating habits, to visiting more often, and when he did, claiming they need to toughen up.
His relationship with his wife seemed rocky as well. While they rarely ever fought, it seemed as though he could ever do much of anything right. Anything from the town they lived in, to their housing situation, to his work schedule, to spending time together or simply with the kids. Lee began to feel more like a pack mule with little more purpose than to bring in money, pay the bills, and follow orders. He realized something needed to change. But what? And how? After more than a decade of letting this build, Lee was out of ideas … and motivation.
In many ways, Lee had been beat down to the point that he wondered about Tim Robbin’s character Andy Dufresne in the Shawshank Redemption. He regularly dreamed about a real big poster, a rock hammer, a little money, and a boat off the beach of Zihuatanejo. The movie described Zijuatamejo as, “a little place on the Pacific Ocean.” It continues by asking, “You know what the Mexicans say about the Pacific? They say it has no memory. That’s where I want to live the rest of my life. A warm place with no memory.” But that mindset remained just a dream rather than a goal. A desire to visit or achieve a plethora of places or goals. Would it be a little hotel in Zijuatamejo? Fly fishing in South America’s Patagonia? Wintering over in Ushuaia? Sailing into Hobart? Rafting through Guilin? Or riding horseback through Mongolia, Bhutan, Nepal, or the African savanna? Or even just a trip up the Eiffel Tower, across the London Bridge, or a picture at Berlin’s famed “Checkpoint Charlie.” There are countless ideas that have crossed his mind, many linger while others have simply been forgotten.
But at this point, most of these dreams have transitioned over to some middle-aged fantasy fading in the mind of a man whose life got the better of him. Dreams that seemed never to come true … not without what Morgan Freeman’s Shawshank character referred to as a “worn down rock hammer, a poster, and a will that never ran dry.”
Both Lee and his wife would eventually have a long conversation about a month prior to his trek, one where he only dared to touch the surface of what was going through his mind. During this conversation he learned that she was overly stressed as well, especially with the kids, her desire for a home, a long dream to settle in one of the Rocky Mountain States, and ultimately her own health.
They came up with a plan to both reduce the stressors in the near term, which meant giving each other a break. She’d taken some personal time the weekend before, and today was his turn, thus the trek through the woods. He simply wanted to spend a little time alone. Close, but far away, so hiking through one of his favorite places seemed to be a great idea. Lee told his wife where he was going, when he planned to return, and off he went.
It was dusk as his destination appeared around the turn. It was a westerly facing cliff, some 40-foot high. He took a seat on one of the larger rocks along the trail and took a moment to glance around the very familiar scene.
To the south he saw a hawk circling above, a hunt apparently underway. In the stream below he watched kayakers floating along with the current. Lee imagined the groups day. Where had they come from and where they were going? With the time, he imagined their day would soon end, likely at the boat launch a mile or so downstream.
He also took notice of a small eddy with a handful of fish lazing in the calm. The kayakers would have an easy catch if they were so inclined.
As he sat in the midst of this scene, Lee pulled a sandwich and water bottle from his pack. This was the first time in quite a while that he felt truly relaxed; the storms of his little world seemed an eternity away. As he ate, the wind blowing through the trees caught his attention. He noted the sky slowly turn from blue, to yellow, to orange. The sun highlighted the few clouds as it finally set in the western sky.
Lee turned his gaze upwards as the stars began to shine; Orion appeared in the eastern sky, a satellite passing overhead, then as darkness as fell, Lee knew the time had come. His peaceful trek through time and space, in this very place which he loved so well, had served its purpose this beautiful fall evening.
Lee grabbed a light from his pack, stowed his meal, and rose. Taking in the sights and sounds one last time, he glanced at the stars above, the lights of town in the distance, the leaves rustling with the wind. He stepped cautiously to the edge, barely making out the stream below. He closed his eyes, he took a breath, his struggles of life would soon end. One last step … and it was done.