Well, Friday my little one Joshua seemed to be a bit bored. Finally, he asked me if I wanted to go and see the creek he and his buddies went to not far from the house. I didn't even hesitate. I remember going on such excursions with my own friends when I was a girl, and those are some of the sweetest summer memories. I remember picking blackberries right off the trees, digging up worms, finding salamanders. I couldn't wait to go with Josh. When he came home from his trek a couple weeks ago, he told me, "Mom, it's just beautiful!" I could just imagine lifting rocks to find some crawfish, maybe spotting a turtle or a frog, or listening to a woodpecker pound on some long dead tree trunk.
Josh and I donned our blue jeans and old sneakers. I had told him, you can't go in the woods without long pants. Poison ivy, old branches, mosquitoes and ticks can do a number on bare legs. Properly attired, we set off across the neighbor's yard, and began the walk along the cornfield that led us to the wooded area we would need to go through.
As we approached the woods. the first thing Josh told me was that we could take the short way or the long way. It was hot and humid, and I was already wondering if shorts might have been worth the pain. He brought me to the entrance of the "Short Way". After two feet of brush and poison ivy, we came to an old rusty fence. The boys climb that thing easily, I am sure of it. The fence was really not much more than rusty yet sturdy chicken wire. What 80 to 100 pound boys thought nothing of climbing brought me to a dead halt. "I can't climb that Josh." My adult mind imagined my much more than 100 pound body trying to climb this four foot fence. It wasn't meant to support my weight, and the only thought that was blaring in my ming was "TETANUS!!"
Josh, with a disappointed look, took me another hundred feet or so to the "Long Way". Let me be frank, I was looking for the beaten path, where hundreds of little feet had worn away a clear line through the dense wooded area. I can't even say that there WAS a path. "Josh, are you sure this is the way??" He just gave me a look and told me that he THOUGHT this was the way, but that his friend David was their navigator. Yes, my ten year old did use that word.
Josh took the lead, and I marveled at how easily his five foot frame managed to duck so many low hanging thin tree branches. Sometimes he would push through them, unaware of the sting they left for mom as they rebounded from his touch and onto his staggering follower. . At some point I became irritated, feeling like there were hundreds of switches left simply to punish me for all wrongs, past, present and future.
Finally we reached a clearing. It was a small field, and I could tell that it was used for farming. I looked around and the whole field was surrounded by trees. I thought there might be some area where a farmers tractor might have left an easy escape route out of this misguided adventure, but there was none. Are you kidding me?? That plow has to get in here somewhere!! We crossed the clearing to reach yet another line of "Woods".
Josh hesitated for a while, not sure of where the path to the creek was. We walked along the edge between field and trees until I spotted what looked like an opening and at least some cleared area. "Isn't there a path??", I asked my boy again. "Sort of", he replied. We entered, he adventurously, I nervously.
"This is it!", he exclaimed, with excitement. I could see a worn area on the ground that resembled a trail, but there were low branches everywhere. Clearly no adult had passed through here. Josh ducked and dodged all of the tree limbs like a running back dodges line backers. What branches I couldn't duck I trudged through, feeling each tiny scratch. I broke every dead limb I could find, desperate to follow my son, not wanting to turn back. The whole time we were stomping through what seemed to be acres of poison ivy and creeping myrtle, and I couldn't help but think, repeatedly, of how many snakes could be hiding there, or how I could twist my ankle, or how I could slip in the mud.
"There it is!!!", Josh cried, exultant over leading his aged mother to the goal of his finest adventure. He couldn't wait for me to break out my Iphone and take pictures of his secret sanctuary. My grown up mind froze for a minute. Is this it?? In my mind's eye, I had imagined a bubbling stream, abundant wild life, and every memory re-lived from my youth.
What I saw was a trickle, a stream that was in dire need of a good rainfall. I could see just where that stream would be with an inch or two of precipitation. I walked along muddy stones to get some pictures, wondering when I would slip and fall into the mud. There wouldn't no salamanders, no blackberries or earthworms.
In the midst of poisoned petals and imagined dangers, I turned, and in a fleeting moment, I caught sight of a beautiful tree that looked like something from the Lord of the Rings. I looked at the trickle of a stream that so enchanted my ten year old boy, and imagined the rushing of water that only he could see. Almost as if a voice had spoken, I thought, "YOU DON'T BELONG HERE!" There are some things that are just not meant for us. Friday, that creek was one of those days for me. Joshua was Peter Pan, and I was a grown up in Never-land.
I have never felt more like an interloper. There was just enough magic to understand why this place was special to Josh, but the grown up in me couldn't look past the danger and just feel what only a child can feel.
My heart hurts and longs to be the little girl who would see everything that Josh could see. I am no longer Wendy, and there are some places that aren't meant for me. The little glimpse of magic there was just enough to shut up my adult self, so that when my Josh wants to go again, I will let him.
There is a Neverland, and only the young can find it. I hope that my Joshua enjoys every minute, and when he is old enough that the magic is gone, I hope that the memories of it are as sweet as mine.
