Night Hiking

Its 2200 hours. I leave the diner. I say "goodbye" to the other hikers staying in town. I walk to where I know there is a spigot and top off my water. 10 dry miles lay ahead in the darkening hills. Up the road I go seeing few white blazes. I remember a left turn on the map so I cross the street just in time to be blinded by the brights of the oncoming cars. I pass a dimly lit house and thank God the dog is on a chain. Two white blazes! I turn left.

Into the woods I bravely step, pushing the little button and cutting a swath of light into the darkness. The path is wide and flat. I move faster. A few twists and turns and the trail begins to narrow. I stub my tow distracting me from my next step that rolls my ankle and slams all my weight onto the outside of my right foot causing a sharp pain that elicits a sharp phrase. An expletive. The first audible word since "goodbye".

I gather my wits, subdue the pain, and start walking again. Fireflies and the moon work on spreading the evening light. still not enough to see the roots and rocks. I break out of the forest and stop quick. Not the bear or snake I fear to see, but the moonlight hitting acres of wheat about ready to harvest. The farmhouse sits lightly on the far side with its solitary porch light/ I see storm clouds off to the south and east lit in random places and times like the fireflies in the the forest I've just left. I'm glad it's not raining too. I soak up the peace, majesty, and wonder of the moment.

Pressing on. I see the gradual increase in elevation. I feel my heart rate climb until i can hear it in my ears. The sweat starts to pour despite the chill on the night air. It is summer after all. Into the forest. Into the field. Into the forest. Into the field. Forest laden with flickering flies. Fields lit overhead by the waxing gibbous and ursa major. Farmhouse after farmhouse I pass thinking of the people inside; sleeping comfortably, hear the ones they love. The thought makes me smile.

Often tonight I will feel like I am lost. Maybe I took the wrong trail. That last flash of paint was so long ago! Then, each time, just before panic reaches in to take control, I see another blaze, bringing peace to my wildly pounding heart. Its 2300.