I lingered under a brilliant canopy
This day too perfect
This air to alive
This energy too delicious
To put aside.
It’s Halloween, and I’m in the woods, I said,
where I belong . . . so . . .
I won’t go back
to the grinding
and the racing
and the ordinary.
I just . . . I can’t.
My heart won’t let me.
This will be my home now.
I’ll find a comfy cave
or a hollow log
and become that weird old hag
that the police have to keep
dragging back to civilization.
I’ll let moss grow in my hair
and let my fingernails get long
and black with real dirt.
I’ll sleep rough and eat from
Nature’s Own Larder,
berries and nuts and mushrooms.
Or maybe instead I’ll become a Dryad,
and wear flimsy dresses
and let my hair flow long
and drink morning dew
out of acorn cups
and eat nothing but flowers.
I strolled for hours, dreaming,
looking for a nice cave
or a hollow log,
avoiding the life I’d grown,
until I realized that the light
was fading. Fast.
And I was extremely lost.
At least I knew where West was,
because that was where the Sun
was setting like a slam dunk.
I may have said some . . .
Unseemly words.
Cursed my rampant curiosity,
my foolishness,
my recklessmess,
my lack of focus.
Lost. In the twilight woods.
Deep in the woods.
On Halloween Night.
Deep enough that I won’t
find my way out before
the Sun slips away
and draws the Veil between worlds
up behind him like
complex stage machinery.
No time to freak out.
Time to assess the situation.
What have I got?
Sandwich? No.
Water? Gone.
Matches? No.
Flashlight? Yeah right.
Cell phone? In. My. Car.
Pretty journal to write my thoughts in? Check . . .
Well, I can probably use some of the pages
to get a fire going.
The wind laughed at me.
Really hard.
Okay, that’s West,
so just keep walking that way
and something will turn up.
The woods will end
and I’ll be on a road
and I’ll flag somebody down
and find out where I am
and maybe get a ride back
to my car,
or get murdered by a serial killer
who just happens to be passing
this way on his way
to his next appointment . . .
I walked.
And it got darker.
And the wind got meaner
and I wished for a coat and mittens
and a more normal sense of proportion
and responsibility, but I didn’t have
any of those things, either.
My neck began to prickle
like it does when there’s
somebody watching you
that you can’t see.
Hey, whoever you are, I said,
more bravely than I felt,
this is my home now,
and I did not invite you in,
so you’d better leave right now
or . . . I will do something terrible.
I didn’t think the wind could
laugh any harder than it already had,
but it sure could.
The path curved,
and in the dim light,
I saw a figure standing still,
as though waiting for me.
Back to that inventory list . . .
Spare undies? Nope nope nope . . .
We just stood there,
I didn’t go any closer,
they didn’t move.
The Sun kept moving, though,
Oh yes.
Do I turn around and try to run?
Do I try to stand my ground?
Can I even remember any
of the self-defense I learned
how many years ago?
Why are they getting bigger?
Trick of the . . . light is too strong a word now . . .
It (he?) grows, and grows.
He’s at least twice my height now,
and still he grows.
My courage is sparked by my anger
and I blurt, “Okay, I get the point!”
He stops growing and looks at me.
Hard.
“Small human, do ye ken
what night it be?”
I figured maybe things would go better for me
if I tried to answer him in rhyme.
“Yes, I know it,
All Hallows E’en.”
“Why tarry you here?
You’re late for supper!”
He roared a laugh, leering at me
in a whole new way I didn’t like.
Rhyming wasn’t helping.
I had to remind myself,
breathe, breathe, breathe.
Think hard. He’s not attacking,
he’s waiting for your response.
Now, what do we know about . . .
Monsters?
My mother used to say,
Inside every monster is a wounded child.
I looked at him again,
thinking about how someone so big
was once someone very small.
I could see him then,
a tiny, hideously adorable urchin,
mostly running and hiding,
hungry and scared,
always fleeing, sometimes fighting,
and then one day,
he said, “Enough!”
and grew. And grew. And, trust me, grew.
My eyes softened, and my fear, too.
“Who hurt you?” I asked.
“Who made you hate yourself
so much that you turned into this?”
The monster just stared at me.
He didn’t know what to roar back at me.
Nobody had ever reacted like this before.
So I kept going.
“I see you, I see the little child
who couldn’t run far or fast enough
to keep the monsters away.
I see you, feeling hated
and unworthy of love.
I see you, finally standing up
to them, and thinking this was
the only way to handle it.”
Was he shrinking?
Maybe, just maybe?
Oh, words, don’t fail me now!
“But love always, always wins.
Trust me, I know,
for I was born of love,
born into love,
raised on love,
taught by love,
nurtured by love,
and dedicated to love
in all its forms.
I know love.
And I can meet you with love,
because I am love.”
At last the monster stood before me,
a gangly, dirty youth,
sullen, but curious.
“You could love me?” he sneered.
“You aren’t brave enough,
or strong enough,
or nasty enough,
or stupid enough,
or desperate enough
to love me.”
“You’re right,” I replied.
“I’m none of those things.
But I am true enough,
kind enough,
nurturing enough,
smart enough,
and empowered enough
to love you.”
The monster began to weep,
and slowly transform.
His dark and shabby clothes
were replaced by fine silks with
gold filigree embellishments
and gleaming boots.
His hair untangled,
his curls gleaming in the Otherworldly light.
His skin was clear of grime,
his face handsome,
his eyes kind.
“The spell is broken!” he cried!
“You have returned me to myself,
and I am whole again!”
All I could do was watch in wonder
and smile at his joy.
“All part of the service,” I replied softly.
When his transformation was complete
he took my hand and looked into my eyes.
“How can I repay you?
What reward would you choose?
Anything you want.”
I said, “Could you see me safely
through this wood back to my . . .
chariot so I can return home?”
“Surely there is something more than that!”
I thought, and thought harder.
“Nope, that’s what I want.
But thanks for offering.
I think I just want to go home
and enjoy being who I truly am.”
He smiled. “You have no idea
what a precious gift that is!”
And so we walked, hand in hand,
through the dark wood,
under rainbow canopied trees,
to the edge of the parking lot
where my chariot awaited.
“Thank you!” we both said,
and laughed.