Walk With Me

Mar 25, 2024

“In every walk with nature, you receive far more than you seek.” - John Muir

When the boys (as I’d started to think of them) returned, they found me curled on the couch with four black-and-white cats snuggled close on all sides. Three were asleep, but one, with gorgeous green eyes, had crawled into my lap and was purring steadily.

As soon as I heard them open the front door, I held my index finger up to my lips and hissed, “Shhhhh!” To give them credit, Evan, Nigel, and Casey did their best not to stomp or clomp, but Bentley never got the message. He raced through the door and made a beeline for the couch. There he licked the faces and ears of each cat before putting his head in my lap.

“I see you found the Meeny Moes,” Evan said as he carried bags of vegetables into the kitchen.

“The what?”

“The cats,” Evan said. “Eeny, Meeny, Miny, and Moe. We call them the Meeny Moes. They’re all from the same litter.”

“Oh, that’s cute,” I said, scratching the chin of the one in my lap. “They followed me all around the house while I was exploring.”

“Probably hoping for treats,” Evan said. “What do you think of the place?”

“It’s beautiful, at least the part I’ve seen. I didn’t get far before I found this.” I held up the Walkman and headset.

“Ah, I thought you might,” Evan said. “Did you listen to it?”

“Only the first part,” I said. “I wanted to talk to you before I played the rest.”

“Okay,” Evan said. “Maybe after dinner.”

“Did I hear you found something?” Nigel asked he walked back into the room. He and Casey had been outside setting up the grill.

“D recorded a cassette tape for me,” I said.

“Sweet,” Nigel said, coming over to take a look.

“Can we hear it, Aunt Maddy?” Casey asked.

“Maybe later,” I replied. “I want to listen to it first. But before we do anything else, tell me what we’re having for dinner. I’m starving.”

Dinner turned out to be as much of a surprise as the cats. While Nigel and Casey tended to the fire outside, Evan mixed up a batch of goat milk biscuits, and washed the zucchini, yellow squash, scallions, and oyster mushrooms. “Where did you learn to cook?” I asked from my seat at the wooden counter. I was relieved to see that he’d taken the time to shower and change into clean clothes before starting to cook and no longer smelled like pond scum. “In fact,” I thought as I watched him wash and cut up the vegetables, “he looks and smells kind of nice.”

“Oh I picked it up from Richard,” Evan replied. “He said it relaxed him.”

I thought of my own disastrous attempts at cooking and laughed. The kitchen had always been my grandmother’s domain, and she ruled it with the iron fist of a dictator. Everything - every utensil, knife, bowl, spice, and storage canister - had its purpose and place. I once made the mistake of borrowing one of her measuring cups to build a castle in my sandbox. I was not only roundly chastised but made to wash the dinner dishes for a full month as well. After that, I’d only ventured into the kitchen to boil water or to retrieve snacks from the pantry.

“Something funny?” Evan asked, looking up from greasing a cookie sheet. I gave him an abbreviated version of the measuring cup story, carefully edited to sound amusing. But Evan was fooled. “I bet that sucked,” he said. “Your grandma sounds like a tyrant.”

“How did you know?” I asked.

“You forget where I grew up,” he said. “The kitchen ogres were legendary at my school. Any mistake was an excuse for a beating or worse.”

“I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”

“Don’t be,” he said. “I just wanted you to know I get it. And any time you’d like to learn to cook, I’d be happy to teach you.”

“I might just take you up on that,” I said.

“So what did you want to talk to me about?” Evan asked. He was putting away everything he’d used to make the biscuits and brushing the vegetables with olive oil infused with fresh rosemary and garlic. The whole house smelled of baking biscuits and fresh herbs.

“Mostly about the tape,” I said. Evan nodded but said nothing. “Do you know why he made it?”

“Not really. He made me promise not to listen to it. He told me that what he had to say was between you and him.”

“Oh,” I said, taking it in. “How sick was he when he made it?”

“Very,” Evan replied. “But if you’re asking whether he knew what he was saying, then yes. D was as sharp as a tack right til the end. And he left on his own terms before he…well you know…”

“Lost it,” I said, finishing his sentence. D always said there was no way he was waiting for some opportunistic infection to destroy his ability to think or take care of himself.

“Yes,” Evan replied grimly.

“You’ll tell me about it?” I said.

“Yes, when it’s time,” he replied.

“Thank you, Evan,” I said, reaching across the counter and touching the back of his hand lightly. “Thank you for being there for him.”

Clearly startled, Evan jerked his hand away and glowered at me with the look that reminded me of a frightened animal. Surprised, I withdrew my hand. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to….”

“Don’t worry about it,” Evan said, looking away. “Touch is just hard for me.”

“I won’t do it again,” I promised. “Not without your permission.”

“Thanks,” Evan said, picking up the pan of vegetables and heading out the back door.

After dinner, Nigel and I lingered by the dying fire watching the shadowy shapes of bats darting above our heads as they caught mosquitoes. Evan had taken Casey to get settled for the night in his tree house. “Is he really going to sleep up there?” I asked. I had visions of Casey falling off a rickety wooden platform in the middle of the night and breaking his leg. Faith would kill me.

“Sure why not?” Nigel asked. “Casey showed it to me on the way back from Evan’s. It’s like a mini-house with four walls, windows, and a carpet on the floor. There are crates full of snacks and comic books, baseball cards, and a couple of board games. I promised to teach him D&D.”

“Nigel!” I exclaimed as the shoe dropped. “You want to camp out up there with him, don’t you?”

“Well, only if you won’t feel abandoned,” Nigel admitted, looking sheepish.

“Nigel Raymond Oberson, you are a closet Boy Scout. I can’t wait to tell Anna!”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Nigel protested.

“I most certainly would and certainly will unless you can think of a suitable bribe. But to answer your question, go for it. I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“Okay, great,” Nigel said. “I’m going to get my sleeping bag and tell Casey.”

“Where’s he headed?” Evan asked as Nigel brushed past him on his way into the house.

“He’s spending the night in the tree house with Casey,” I said.

“You okay with that?”

“Sure, why wouldn’t I be?”

“Oh I don’t know. It’s your first night in new place with the ghosts of your friend hanging around,” Evan teased.

“Oh please,” I replied. “Tell me you don’t believe in ghosts.”

“Nawww,” Evan grinned. “But I do believe that the souls of ancestors watch over us. It’s a Cherokee thing.”

“Something else you’ll tell me about one day no doubt. In the meantime, where would you suggest I sleep?”

“Well, I made up the sofa bed in the living room. I figured you wouldn’t want to sleep in the loft.”

“That’s where…”

“Yeah, that’s where he passed,” Evan confirmed.

“Then you figured right. I’ll be fine on the couch. Thanks.”

“No problem,” Evan said. “So listen. The cats will probably want to sleep with you.”

“I’m used to that,” I said. “I have a cat at home who sleeps beside my head.”

“And don’t be surprised if you hear critters sniffing around the place during the night.”

“What kind of critters?”

“Deer, opossum, bobcats, coyote, maybe a bear or two. And our outdoor cats are always curious when someone new shows up.”

“Did you say bears?”

“Sure,” Evan laughed. “Remember these woods are their home too. And you’re a new smell. They’ll be curious.”

“And where will you be?”

“I’ll be sleeping at my place about a quarter of a mile away. Unless you’d prefer I stay. I could bring my gear and sleep on the porch.”

“You’d sleep outside?”

“Sure, do it all the time,” Evan said. “Look, it’s perfectly safe. I’ll make sure everything is closed and locked before I go.”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” I assured him, though I was feeling far from sure. “I’ll see you in the morning.

Much to my surprise I fell asleep almost immediately and slept soundly until the sun began to peek through the front windows. It took me a few moments to remember where I was and to figure out why I was so hot. Then I discovered the cats tucked in all around me.

“Sorry to disturb you guys,” I said, as I crawled out from beneath the covers. I added water and coffee to the coffee maker and hit start before heading to the bathroom for a shower. Afterwards, I retrieved the Walkman from where I’d left it on a shelf above the sink, poured myself a cup of coffee, and rewound the tape. Then I put the headphones on and pressed, “Play.” D’s warm and familiar voice came through the headphones with a faint hiss. If I closed my eyes I could imagine him sitting beside me, cleaning his glasses with the hem of his shirt, and adding too much cream and sugar to his coffee. “I’m here D,” I whispered. “I’m here.”

You made it!
This makes me inordinately happy since it means time will not have the last say after all. The Light House will live on in and through you, and with any luck at all you will come to feel as I did - that you belong to it as it belongs to you.

It was Richard who taught me this simple truth - each of us has a place on Earth where we are meant to be - to put down roots, plant our dreams, and grow into more than just watery bags of skin and bones and blood with overdeveloped brains.

“When you find your place,” he used to say, “it takes care of you. You drink its water, breathe and smell its air, come to know its seasons, watch the daylight come and go, and learn the ways of the other living things that call it home. And if you listen with your whole self, you will hear it singing.”

At this point, there are few things I regret, but you spending so little time with Richard is one of them. By the time you met he was already sick - already beginning the process of walking himself home, so you never really had his full attention. But you are/were very much alike - outwardly different but attuned to the world around you.

I’ve been trying to find a way to pass on some of what he taught me. The best I can come up with is this little audio tour. Let my voice guide you and whenever a breeze brushes your cheek or the flash of a bird’s wing catches your eye - all sure signs Richard is near.

Let’s begin with something mundane and familiar - my morning routine. The sleepy voices of the robins, cardinals, and catbirds pull me from sleep. If I’m lucky, I’ll catch the last tired hoots of owls calling it quits and heading for bed.

I do my best to slip from beneath the covers without waking Richard. He needs his rest and I selfishly want the morning to myself. Then I tiptoe to the kitchen and get the coffee started.

Next, I pull on a shirt, pants, socks and shoes, gather everything I’ll need at the cabin, and pour myself a cup of coffee. Then I tiptoe past the steady tick tick tick of the grandfather clock out onto the back porch where my favorite Adirondack chair - the one that Richard hates because it hurts his back - is waiting.

If I’m lucky, Plutarch and Grace will have been keeping my seat warm for me. They never seem to mind giving it up but that’s probably because I always come bearing treats. This morning it’s leftover fish from last night’s super, which they gobble down as if they’re never fed. When all the fish is gone and I set my empty coffee cup down they know it’s time to go. They’re not much for walking but enjoy pretending to stalk any critter we come across.

The first thing I see when I get up from my chair is Arnold the squirrel hanging onto the bird feeder as it spins him in circles. Before I installed the feeder he used to shimmy up the pole, scare all the birds away, and have a feast.

Watching him spin is funny as hell, but it’s also a reminder that change is inevitable and holding on can make you dizzy! Now let’s step off the porch and follow the flagstone path to the cabin. Keep your eyes open for critters!

At this point I stopped the tape and sat quietly for a few minutes thinking about what I’d heard. More than anything I wished I could talk to D about what he’d recorded - about having a place on Earth where you can put down roots and plant your dreams. “It’s not fair, you know,” I said aloud as I watched Gracie and Plutarch chasing each other across the yard and Arnold spinning in circles on the bird feeder. “It’s just not fair.”

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