In Stride
I wrote this for a friend. It’s a love story.
In Stride By Jessica Rounds
Once upon a time, two brave souls embarked on a treacherous trek with others to reach the summit of their land. They believed from that peak, they would see all the things that had seemed unknowable to them.
From the bottom, where they were, the peak appeared impossibly high. But they disregarded the overwhelming distance between themselves and their destination, and set forth.
In no time, the two defeated any semblance of a daily grind by keeping each other thoroughly entertained. She listened with fascination to his stories about the creatures from his native land, taking in the whole of him. Those facial expressions sent her howling with laughter, clutching her stomach for fear she would die of delight. He found such laughter contagious and her big eyes disarming. “Oh Lord,” he thought to himself. “Who is this girl?”
The heat drained them, and the pressure from the other members of the group to keep pace was daunting, but they carried on. They enjoyed each other so much that time either stood still or sped up when they were together.
They trekked up very steep inclines; sometimes she would slip, and he would grab ahold of her and set her straight. And sometimes he would catch a glimpse of something shiny off yonder and she would gently take his chin and guide his eyes toward the peak. At first, it was a little scary feeling responsible for someone else, but they relaxed as this pattern of helping one another along became familiar.
One morning before the sun had risen, the entire group set onto the trail. Being more adventurous than most (borderline reckless), he opted to scale a particularly steep slope. She felt unusually tired that day, and lagging behind, barely glimpsed his tattered t-shirt disappearing over a ledge.
But she could recognize him anywhere, and felt her heart begin to race! Was it fear that he would be hurt? Or dread at the prospect of losing this dearest friend? Would their beautiful time together come to an abrupt end? What if he never knew how much she adored him? What if after all their hard work, they never got to see the peak together?
She suddenly felt overwhelmed by all the thoughts in her head.
At that moment, she pulled from her sack a small piece of paper, and scribbled a brief message in coded symbols. To herself, she mouthed the four words encrypted before her, and all at once felt emboldened yet fearful of their consequences.
She clutched the little paper in her palm and drew strength from deep down to climb faster. No longer weary, she fervently pressed past other trekkers in search of that familiar tattered t-shirt. She climbed the unfamiliar slope, twice slipping and skinning her knee. Onwards in the hot sun, she could only smile with the little paper in hand and the fire of purpose urging her on.
Finally, sweaty and dusty, she heaved over the ledge, and there her friend knelt only a few feet away. He was staring out at the broad horizon with tears in his eyes. “There is so much space. I forget that sometimes.” He turned and looked at her, as if he was expecting her. “How can we look around at all this beauty and not celebrate?”
She smiled warmly, still clasping the little piece of paper. They took each other in from across the relatively small distance, and briefly, they were the only two people in existence.
“Here.” As he took the paper from her hands, all the courage it had previously ignited suddenly dissipated and she felt small. What would happen now? He looked at it for some time, and then smiled at her earnestly. “It’s written in code. I would have to spend a while on this to understand its meaning.”
“I know. I didn’t want anyone else to figure it out,” she replied, biting nervously at her lip.
He shook his head, and regarded her ever so kindly. “If we are going to make it to the peak, I cannot wile away the day decoding your communication.” And with that, he smiled, crumpled the paper into a ball, and stuffed it into his mouth.
One might think such cavalier disregard would have left her embarrassed. Instead, she inwardly applauded him and resolved to swallow the rest of her words as well. In that moment, they knew things would be different. Unspoken communication weighs heavily on a friendship built on honesty.
Alas, they knew that every moment dwelling there was one less step toward the peak. So, that afternoon, two hardy souls descended to the main trail and joined the others. They filled the silence with their laughter, forced gaiety slowly gave way to genuine delight in the familiar routine of stumbling and rebounding.
The sun drifted lower in the sky, and they too, drifted to opposite sides of camp. As with any good-natured people, they befriended new people who joined the journey. His wit and ingenuity spawned an instant popularity, and he began pioneering groups on more adventurous routes. She was willing and able; when the group leaders beseeched her to aide a wayward team on another trail, she agreed.
After packing her belongings, she heaved a sigh and hoisted her pack upon her shoulders. With closed eyes, she looked at all the moments over the course of their trek up to this point; those moments collectively filled her up to brimming. With bittersweet resignation, she turned to go, and their eyes met. She became nothing but her eyes, which drifted so close to where he was standing that she could feel him.
It was a brief exchange…
“Maybe in another time and place…yes…it’s been so good…thank you for everything we’ve shared…I’ve never known anyone like you…I wish we didn’t have to end like this…oh…I don’t believe in goodbyes…no…good luck, my dear friend.”
And so it was to be that although each group ultimately would reach the same peak, their paths abruptly parted.
The days passed. At first, she was sorry that he had never read the little paper, yet it made it easier to let him go. He worked hard, focusing on his new adventures, and the image of her enormous smile faded with each setting sun. Time filled itself into the voids that were inevitable when they first parted. Finally, they were merely characters in each others stories. When the void would occasionally open up like an old wound, they knew to look up at the unwavering peak, and that void would fold up into the clear-cut path before each of them.
But still, he occasionally wondered about that little piece of paper. He thought of the lively girl with whom he’d spent endless hours, and he wondered also if she thought of him.
The weeks turned to months, which turned to years. He climbed. She climbed. Sometimes she wanted to turn around and run away from the peak that still seemed so far away. She longed to slide into streams, float down rivers, and sunbathe on fallen logs. Some mornings when she set out onto the rocky trail, she swore she wouldn’t take another step; only the urgency of those around her kept her moving. She carried on, finding her way, and helping those around her when they faltered.
One day, she decided to take a walk through the sylvan fields beside the familiar path. She closed her eyes, and let her hands drift over the tops of the tall grasses. She was awfully tired, and the cool touch of flower petals against her skin beckoned her to lie down and sleep for a while. She dreamed of breathing more slowly, of laughing without covering her mouth, of wings, of foreign places…
When her slumber finally broke, she looked around at unfamiliar surroundings. It had grown dark and there was not even a star in the sky to orient her. She felt lost and oh so hungry. She grabbed at the mushrooms nestled by her side, and ate until she felt sick. Then she sat back and cried. The world began falling into pieces around her; jagged edges loomed in and out and she was afraid to move. Sounds morphed into creatures that lunged at her and pecked out her heart. She was a scarecrow hoisted on her own delusions.
After an indefinite time, the episode subsided. She found her way back to the group, but felt too weak to continue. She convincingly explained how she wasn’t as strong as she’d once been and begged them to carry on without her. Though disappointed, they reluctantly agreed and she watched the team march on ahead until they grew very small.
She breathed more slowly, and she forced herself to laugh out loud, at first recoiling at the foreign sound. But, as breaths came more freely, so did laughter. And she slid into streams, floated down rivers, and sunbathed for days on end. Gradually, she recovered her strength.
One evening, as the sun folded itself behind the horizon, she glimpsed the peak, particularly majestic against the grey skyline. From her comfortable sprawl amidst the wildflowers, it seemed so very far away. Without the group, she felt little motivation to reach it. Without the path, it was altogether inaccessible. And she suddenly felt so very small, and so very alone.
The days grew longer. Minutes lingered around for hours and though her newfound strength thrilled her, she had nowhere to go. She wandered in many directions discovering new bits of beauty around her, always returning to the safety of her bed of wildflowers. The peak became a familiar shadow each evening, an ever constant and haunting reminder of where she had once longed to be. Oh, the harder she tried to appreciate the ground, the larger the shadow grew above her, until the peak all but consumed her.
So, one fine day, she resolutely hoisted her pack onto her shoulders and set about for the path she had deserted some while back. Unfortunately, the path was overgrown and indecipherable. All the new flowers suddenly looked less appealing and the petals did not feel cool and soft against her skin. She wandered for quite some time before collapsing in despair, lost.
She wearily found herself in a foreign place, and cried softly for something familiar. She knew no one would find her.
Or so she thought.
Over the hill he came. From where he was camped with his group some distance off, he had heard and followed her muffled cries. He did not stop until he stood above her.
“I knew it was you,” he said. “I’d recognize you anywhere.” And when he knelt down beside her, she sniffed and wiped her teary eyes.
“I didn’t think we would meet like this,” she whispered. “But I’m so glad that you are here. I have been lost.”
He smiled warmly and gently lifted her chin, pointing toward the peak. “How could you ever be lost?”
As she looked up with his hand at her face, she felt expansive and the peak seemed closer than ever. In that moment, she laughed and cried and wondered at the flux of feelings pulsing within her. The moment came and went, but what had transpired in that brief time filled her with new hope.
She took his outstretched hand and followed, not knowing which path they would take. He thrived on spontaneity, and didn’t have it particularly mapped out either. But, they knew they would reach the peak together, and that was good enough for them.
Hand in hand, they walked back over the hill. Only once did he stop her. “Do you remember the little piece of paper you gave me that day on the outlook?”
“The one you ate?”
“Yes,” he replied. “I’ve often wished that I had taken the time to figure it out. But, that wasn’t the right thing to do then.” He looked at her big, wet eyes in front of him, and felt at home. “Now that we’ve found each other, after all this time and in this unlikely way, I would like to know what you knew then.”
She smiled, leaned in close to him, and whispered, “It’s always been you.”