The Woods

What I love about you is that you understand something about me. I dont know if it is because we are the same or because we are different. Or, maybe you are just incredibly wise. But, nonetheless, you understand.

What?

My love affair with the woods. I love them and fear them both. The woods seem like home to me. Every morning, they are the first thing on my mind. Each day they enchant me. There are alway more trails to follow, more trees to climb, more horizons to pursue. They are beautiful--the sounds there, the quiet, the crackle, the colors, the smell--these are to me the clues of life. They may not be, I know this. They may not ever lead me but to bigger leaves, higher trees, and further ridges--I know this too. But, the woods are me. The woods are where I belong. But, this isnt the important thing. Many people understand this. Many see that the woods are my habitat.

I dont want to live in the woods, however. I dont want to stay there permanently. No. I like to hike out each day. I like to get a distance. I like to go into to town to see the people, to watch the passers by, to laugh over a glass of potion, and to hear 'the talk of the town.' I like coming out mostly to see you. To walk with you. To listen to you. To look at you. I like coming out because there is someone there to gaze into, and someone there who I allow to gaze into me. Your center is transferred to mine, and vice versa. This is just as much or more the clue of life than those woods. This is the source of joy. But, many people know this too. They see me in town, they laugh with me over potion, the tell me the talk of the town. Others I have gazed into, and others have gazed into me.

What then? What? you ask, almost hurt.

You let me go. You let me venture into those woods each day. You know I have to. You know in order to be me, in order to be the me you want, in order to be the me that is sane, happy or free, I have to go. I go not to get away from you. I go not to escape you or anyone else. No, I go to understand. I go to try. And, when I come out life doesnt make sense, but it is at least more than bearable. You understand this. This is unique. This is hard. But, you understand it and I love that about you. Thank you.