From Ant to Eagle(14)

Just as I went to open my mouth and sound my defeat, Aleta yelled, “Why don’t we stop in those trees ahead?”

I looked up to find a wall of trees had materialized ahead of us. I hadn’t noticed because I’d been staring at my feet. I couldn’t believe the fields actually had an end! It was further away than I would have liked but at least I now had something tangible to run toward.

I told myself I could make it.

And I did. Barely.

As soon as I ran into the forest, I collapsed onto the ground. It was soft and dry and the relief from the sun was amazing. I lay there listening to my own breathing and feeling my chest move up and down, up and down. I closed my eyes and felt the cool stillness all around me.

After a while, the quietness began to unnerve me. Where had Aleta gone? I sat up and looked around.

“Aleta?”

She didn’t answer so I stood up and walked further into the trees.

“Aleta?”

The forest had looked dense from far away but twenty steps in and I was already coming out the other side. Only it wasn’t like I was on the other side of the same forest, it was like I had walked out of a completely new forest. Like it was some sort of gateway to another world.

I found Aleta standing with her back to me, looking out over the landscape. In front of her was a clear pond as smooth as glass and rimmed with bull rushes. White flowers on lily pads dotted the edges and the reflection of the sky in the middle was as clear as the one above. Beyond the pond was a hill so steep it gave the impression that a part of the world had broken off and fallen a hundred feet. I could see all the way to the horizon miles and miles away—it felt like I could see forever.

Only I couldn’t look at forever for very long.

Lake Huron was lit by a glaring July sun in the distance and it glistened a brilliant gold and blue—like someone had melted the sky, poured it into a pot of gold then added a million stars. It was like looking into the world’s brightest disco ball.

Between the pond and Lake Huron was a landscape of rolling hills and untouched fields; of wild flowers and brambles and dancing long grass. There was no sign of human life—no roads, no houses, no tractors—just a hidden expanse of undiscovered country.

Another world.

I’d never developed Sammy’s love for the countryside. I’d never appreciated what Mom and Dad saw in cornfields and dirt roads, but this—this was different. This was a picture taken from a magazine and stretched out in front of me.

“It’s beautiful,” Aleta whispered beside me.

“Yeah,” I said, “it’s something.”

I walked over to the pond and put my toe into the water, watching as the mud melted off my shoe. Seeping in, the cool water felt like heaven. I put my whole foot in, then the next. I waded into the pond until it was deep enough to swim. The water washed away the sweat and grime. I felt revitalized.

“Aleta, you have to come in. This is amazing.”

Aleta hesitated a moment, watching me swim as she appeared to make up her mind. Then she sat down and began pulling off her shoes and socks.

“Leave them on,” I said.

“These are new,” she replied, then stood and walked to the edge. “And besides, I want to feel the mud squish between my toes.”

As she stepped into the pond her eyes closed and her body seemed to melt into the water. She lay along the surface not moving a muscle, yet somehow managing to stay afloat, like driftwood.

On the far side of the pond, I found a trickle of water running down the sloping hill that had made a path of mud. The hill was steep enough that with a running start I could slide all the way down, finishing in a giant heap of muck at the bottom. I convinced Aleta to try it and we spent the rest of the morning sliding down the hill then running back up to wash off in the pond.

When we tired of sliding, we lay beneath the shade of the maple trees and counted the clouds floating by, feeling the warm breeze of summer and listening to the drone of dragonflies amid a chorus of bullfrogs.

I had nearly drifted off to sleep when I heard Aleta whisper, “This place is perfect.”

I rolled over to find her sitting up, staring off into the distance. Pieces of dry grass were stuck in her hair and her shirt was dirty from the mud. I guess the pond hadn’t completely cleaned us off.

I pulled a piece of long grass from the ground and stuck it in my mouth then lay with my hands behind my head. “I feel like a farmer taking a break after a long morning of hard work.”

“Hard work?” Aleta laughed. “Trust me, you don’t look like any farmer I know. All we’ve done is swim and play. I’d say you look more like Huck Finn.”

“Who’s Huck Finn?”

“Have you never read Mark Twain?” she asked, one eyebrow raised.

“Who’s that?”

“He’s an author.”

“If his name’s not R.L. Stine and his books don’t say Goosebumps on the cover, I’m not interested,” I said. “And don’t pretend like you don’t like Goosebumps because I saw you reading one in church the other day.” Aleta’s face turned red and I grinned. “You’re not as sneaky as you think.”

She grinned back. “But I’m pretty sneaky.”

I laughed. “Yeah, pretty sneaky.”

We sat for a little while longer before Aleta said she should probably get home to help her sister make dinner. We walked as far as an old tree trunk that was split and charred in the middle—I guess when you’re the only tree between miles and miles of fields your chances of getting struck by lightning are pretty good.