The Thump of Thoreau

We drove up the snowy, winding road towards the cozy A-frame cabin. And there, sitting in the middle of our path was a fallen tree.

I knew it.

I muttered something under my breath. Just harsh sounds and consonants crushed together. The only cursing I could get away with since the toddler learned a four letter ‘F.’

Glancing over, she was still asleep. Great. Now I have to wake her up and pretend to be all optimistic while there’s a tree the size of a truck blocking the path. I didn’t even want to come on this trip. I doubt she did either. All we could do was smile and say ‘thank you’ when her sister handed us the reservation.

“You two should get away,” she’d said. “It’ll be good for you.” Yeah. Right.

Dusk was settling in. Early. I guess that should be obvious up on a mountain.

“Well…” I say. Loud enough so it can wake her. Quiet enough so it sounds like I thought she was already awake. I wait a beat. Glancing over, she’s still asleep! Oh, come on!

As I get out of the car, the frigid air fills my lungs. It almost hurts. For a moment. But then it surprises me. It feels refreshing. I strap on my gloves and close the car door. Time to do the husbandly thing and inspect this like there’s anything to be done for it.

Walking up to the massive beam, I glance to either side. Can’t go over it. Can’t go under it. Can’t go through it. Gotta go around it. But how?

The passenger door closes with a loud thud and birds fly from the limbs above.

“What happened?” she asks.

“Tree fell.” I say. Come on, you can do better than that. I chide myself. “It was just like this when I—we—drove up.”

“Should we call the host?” she asks, trying to be helpful.

“No. They couldn’t possibly have a way to fix it. They probably own 50 properties and don’t even know which mountain we’re on.”

“Well, the cabin is just over there. I can see the light and the wreath, just like it said.”

I nod. “Yeah, but we can’t leave the car on a snowy slope all night. The snow will turn to ice, and the next thing we know the car will be in the ravine.”

She smiles. Why is she smiling? “That’s true,” she goads, and there’s a hint of flirtatiousness in her voice. “Then I guess we’d just be stuck here until someone comes to pick us up. An extra night or two couldn’t hurt, could it?”

A night or two? Hmph. And what, just call in my sick days like it’s no big deal? “Wait…” I check my phone. “There’s not even a signal out here.”

“Oh, yeah. They said cell service would be spotty and the snow makes it worse.” Her boots crunch through the snow on her way up to me.

It’s coming, I know it’s coming. My body tenses up as she wraps an arm through mine.

“What’s the matter?” she asks. Her eyes are big and plaintive as they look up at me. And for a moment, I feel like I can relax.

What was it about her eyes? Come to think of it, when’s the last time I looked in those eyes? When’s the last time I stood still for more than a few seconds? When’s the last time I let her touch linger against me?

“What’d you say?” I ask, almost out of breath.

“I said, ‘What’s the matter?’”

Yeah… what is the matter? “Come on. Let’s at least take a look. We can walk a few hundred feet in the snow. Your father did, every day, to school and back.”

“Uphill both ways,” an exasperated whisper.

She laughs. And wow. It’s like the twinkling of sugar plums. “That’s a fairy, right?”

“What?”

“Nothing.” I glance down, and she’s still smiling. Her lips slightly chapped. Snowflakes land on her eyelashes like little specks of fairydust. It is cold. I can feel it through my coat, but on my side I feel her warmth. “Oh! Let me turn off the car first!” I leave her stranded in the snow and run back downhill.

Too fast, too fast. Slow down! I can’t stop. My shoes begin to fly forward like water skis on a stilted circus clown. Then suddenly… I’m flying. The delirious moment of delight comes crashing upon me as ice greets the back of my skull. The sound of a coin cranked in a gumball machine. Surely I shattered something. And my tailbone. Drumbeats of feverish heat spread from my backside to each hip. Have my eyes been open this whole time? Everything was so fast, I couldn’t even register what I was seeing.

Snowfall gently down the boughs. The early moon in the dusknight sky. And then… her. Upside down. “Wow, you really are gorgeous.”

She slowly lowers her mitted hand from her mouth. Her sympathetic eyes confusing her smile. And are those tears?

I slowly start to sit up, the purring engine of the car covering up my groans. “Ohhhkay. Let’s try this again.” I waddle the few remaining steps to the car and turn the key. “Slowly.”

She wraps her arm in mine again, but this time, I’m grateful for the support.

We crouch beneath the tree, and slowly ascend the hill. She hasn’t said a word. I’m in pain, but I feel like it’s my turn to ask. “What’s wrong?” I wince.

“Hm?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she veritably sings. Her head turns to and fro, taking in the trees and snow… and the few birds brave enough to weather the cold.

The deck to the cabin greets us like a warm shower. She fumbles around for the key while I bask in the fresh winter air. I hear the lock click, and I turn to see her looking back at me. A wide smile and those deep eyes. Even… is that… a hint of a flirtatious giggle?

Yeah. Maybe an extra night or two wouldn’t be so bad after all.