The Freedom of the Woods

My senses came alive in the magical scenery of the woods. The bark of the trees, moist with the cool autumn air, sent the fallen leaves dancing around my feet and a cloak of bracken protectively covered the ground from the invading cold of winter, the beginning of the frost that clung so desperately to the branches made everything in its path sparkle with the morning light.

As I stood amongst the enormity of the trees I heard my dad's bellowing voice in the distance, “Hurry up Phee!” He always called me Phee, ever since I was a child and I would tell people my name was ‘Phee Phee’ instead of ‘Phoebe’.

“I'm coming.” I replied, running to catch up with him.

His tall bear-like frame dwarfed me when I stood next to him, his dark chocolate hair, identical to mine, was thinning on top and at the corners of his deep brown eyes, small lines were forming, which were more prominent now as his smile beamed from ear to ear. He was always smiling in the woods.

When a knock sounded at my door the following evening I had not expected what stood waiting on the other side. Two policemen with solemn expressions etched on their faces.

“Miss Hart?” the more stern looking one of the two said.

“Yes”.

“May we come in for a moment?” A part of me knew why they were on my doorstep but a bigger part of me hoped I was wrong.

The moment I heard the words 'I'm sorry for your loss' escape their lips the room around me blurred, it felt like someone had taken a knife and stabbed me in the chest, only to remove it and stab me again. For as long as I had known it had been me and him against the world. He was the only one I could tell all of my secrets to, the only one I could scream at in the morning, laugh with in the afternoon and cry with in the evening. To be told I would never see my dad again. It sent shock waves around my body, paralysing me of speech.

“Daddy will always be here.” he used to say those words whenever I cried. But he was wrong he wouldn't always be here.

The week that followed was torturous. I spent most of my nights cleaning and cooking and doing anything to distract me from thinking, I couldn't sleep so I spent most of my nights staring up at the ceiling until I would give up on getting any respite from the nightmare I had entered.

The day before the funeral I walked through the woods. It was the first time I walked alone through the trees. A deep intake of the fresh air sent the smell of the damp leaves and the sodden earth swirling around my senses. I paused to feel the rays of the sun on my face. Most of the time I felt completely numb but the warming touch of the sun tingled as it caressed my skin in a comforting embrace. It streamed through the auburn leaves casting a rainbow of gold and amber mixed with the odd deeper maroon colour. That's when I realised I had stopped in the same place that I had on our last walk in the woods. I could almost hear his voice in the distance shouting my name over the cold autumn breeze, but when I looked up I saw nothing. An escaped tear rolled down my cheek. I so wished I could go back to that day, to the freedom of the woods.

And now, here I stand in the woods as if nothing has changed. It had of course; it was ten years since the day the police told me I would never see my dad again. The sunlight was streaming through the now plentiful greenery of the trees; it brought a smile to my face. The pain hadn't gone away like everyone told me it would, but it was less intense. Life was better now.

“Mum!” snapping back to reality I saw my daughter bounding after me with her big chocolate eyes and long brown hair flowing behind. As she lunged for me, like a little bear cub nearly knocking me over, I swaddled her in a tight embrace almost squashing her.

“I saw a squirrel, come on quick” she led me away with excitement sparkling in her eyes.

Once again I was happy. I was Free.