Remembering the Evergreens

The lake rippled gentle waves where rusted leaves collided with the water. At the shoreline, a large sycamore swayed effortlessly in the mild breeze as a lone figure watched the centre of the reservoir. The sun sank slowly in the darkness behind the mountains and caused the pathway through the evergreen shrubs to cast long, jagged shadows. The night fog had begun to settle across the lake to the dark recesses of the surrounding woods. Every sound was stilled.

The stranger watched the lake for a long time until the last faint glimmer from the dying sun disappeared, and the light of the moon flooded into the valley from the hills beyond.

The man turned and headed back to the clearing, closing the dense forest behind him. He retraced his steps along the yellow path, step by step returning to a natural shelter of the trees. Once inside the sanctuary, the stranger lay down in a dark purple sleeping bag on the dry dirt. He had returned to the site where he had spent his first night many years before, but this time he was alone. As he closed his eyes, he felt his journey was over.

Dawn arrived gradually. The full moonlight had left the hills, and its fading light reflected in the lake’s mirror-like surface. The yellow path appeared bright, and the wide-open space beckoned him. He got up, retrieved his belongings, and began the long walk home. As he walked, his thoughts were with his last journey through the woods. As he trudged through the undergrowth, the echoing sound of his footsteps followed the winding route along the tree-lined path. The whisper of the wind in the distant branches of the trees added to the magical beauty of the morning.

As he walked, he caught glimpses of birds flying from tree to tree and tiny fawns grazing among the tall grass. As the sun rose higher in the clear blue sky, a crimson sunflower standing like a jewel in the meadow peeked out from among the tall weeds. As the man walked, he began to laugh as he remembered the time when he walked through the same woods and met the girl with shiny black hair.

The man and the woman would often meet at the same place each day, waiting to meet the other, but each only acknowledged each other when they were out of sight of anyone else. He would always walk along the yellow path as he left the woods to return to the clearing. And she would always walk along the shore to their secret spot.

The man remembered the day he told her he loved her. She was shocked. “You had never told me that before,” she said. The day was the most beautiful of the year. The warm rays of the sun were shining bright and warm on his face. The lake glistened like a diamond in the sunshine, and birds filled the air with their trilling melodies.

His heart raced, and he felt as light as air. He had never told a woman he loved her before.

But that was all so long ago. The days of magic were over. Now, his face was covered by a harsh layer of wrinkles, and his hair was as grey as the lichen on the stones.

As the man walked down the yellow path to the clearing, his heart was heavy with sorrow. He approached the spot where he had last seen her standing, but all he found were the empty piles of stones that she had discarded years ago. The man sat on one of the stones and wept.

As his tears slid down his cheeks, a lonely cricket chirped a sad song and flew up into a tree where it perched on a bare branch. In this place, the man finally saw the love of his life for the last time.

At this very place, she sat at the edge of the lake when he left her for the last time. She gazed into the water and spoke these words:

“Our love will always remain in this place. Remember to look for it whenever you need.”

And the man’s heart broke into a thousand pieces.