"Sounds like you've had a nice day off the grid. I was wandering the woods myself."
"Yeah?" she says. "Well, I wish you would've found me before I tripped and fell because now I don't know how I'm going to leave."
"Let's see if you can stand," I say. I dust off my pants and stand in front of her, reaching for her hand. As she tries to stand, though, she immediately winces.
"Oh, crap," she says. "I don't think I can do it." Tears sting her eyes then roll down her cheeks.
"Hey," I say, wiping them away. "It's all right." She's hopping on one foot now. "Why don't I help you back?"
"Really?" she says.
"Yeah," I say. "My house isn’t far. We can cut through here and it's just a little under a mile. Then I can drive you back to the campgrounds. How's that sound?"
"That sounds like I'm very lucky to have found you. I might have had to roll back home."
I laugh. "You think you could roll four miles?"
"I don't know, but what else would I have done?" she asks, laughing. "I would be scared to be out here by myself at night. I heard that there are cougars."
"Bears too," I tell her.
Her eyes widen. "Really?"
"Yeah," I say. "I'm guessing you're not from these parts."
She shakes her head. "No, my family, we're in a traveling band and we started out in Arizona. So I'm from the desert, not this lush green paradise. There's a creek I found with ferns that go all the way up to my hips. It's like we're in some prehistoric paradise."
I chuckle. "Yeah, I can see that. The moss is as thick as a blanket in some parts. The cedar trees sprawl out so big, their roots so large, nothing will shake them."
"I like that," she says. "It's solid."
"True. Going to stand the test of time."
Our eyes lock then. There's something real, authentic and true, that pierces my heart. I swallow, wondering why the fuck I’m getting lost in these ideas. “Here,” I say. “Why don’t I pick you up and just carry you. Otherwise, I’m afraid you’re going to trip again on that one foot.”
She cringes as I take her underneath her arms and lift her up, carrying her, her body pressed against my chest. She’s light and easy to handle. Now, though, her face is real close to mine. She looks up, laughing nervously. “Okay, so this got real, real fast,” she says, acknowledging the situation.
“I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable,” I tell her.
“I’m not uncomfortable,” she says, assuring me as I begin to walk through the trail shortcut toward my house.
“I’m not uncomfortable either,” I tell her. “In fact...”
“What?” she says.
“I feel like I was supposed to find you in these woods today, in that meadow.”
She smiles, relaxing in my arms as I walk carefully through the woods that I know like the back of my hand. The last thing I want to do is trip on another root or fallen branch and send both of us flying. I’ve got precious cargo right now. “So,” she says, “you live in the woods. And what do you do here? Do you just take walks every day?”
“No,” I say, “I work construction. I build things, houses, barns. I work on a crew with my dad. The whole family mostly works there except for my brother Graham. He’s a police officer. So I guess we’re even more alike. We both work with our families.”
“Yeah, I guess we do.”
“You like working with them?” I ask her.
“Mostly,” she says. “I made a commitment to travel on the road with them for another year. Sometimes, though, I get tired of going from place to place.”
“Are you playing in town?” I ask her. “Are you guys here to do a show in Home? Because I haven’t heard anything or seen any flyers anywhere.”
“No,” she says. “Actually, my father made us a deal that we could take a week’s vacation. And somehow he found this campground, which honestly is incredible. But the moment we got here, my mom was talking about us practicing some new songs and I was like, no way, I am taking a week off for myself. Do you ever get a break?"
I chuckle. "Yeah, I have three days a week off, plus I have my own cabin. But it doesn't sound like you get too much of one. You're still on vacation with the people you work with."
"That's true," she says, "which might be part of the problem. I hate to say it, but I'm going a little stir crazy. My whole life we've lived and worked together, but now I'm just..."
We're nearing my cabin. She can’t see it yet, but in my heart, I have a feeling about how she is going to finish her sentence.
"I just want to settle somewhere,” Meadow says. “I want to come home."