Old Man Winter

Barry was on the path he had walked since he was a kid. He knew it like the back of his hand, even though it was covered in an entire season’s worth of snow. He taught his grandchildren the way of the path the season before. Left at the tree that was shaped like a dragon. Right at the boulder that nearly crushed his brother ages ago. Follow the trail of raspberry bushes that lined both the left and the right lane. They haven’t changed in his nine decades of life. If his father was still alive, he would still be able to get around just fine.

This season was different. He wasn’t walking the path to show his granddaughter the wildflowers that grew on the other side of the river. He wasn’t walking the path to show his grandson the spot where the fruits were edible and fresh. He was walking to survive. The chill of the winter drove him out of his home. There was nobody left there that could care for him like he knew he could for himself. He was out to find the cave where he would hide away as a teenager, where he had his first kiss. Where he lived when he ran away from home. Where he remembers seeing his family last.

He decided he would leave at night, after the guards went to bed. They never let him go anywhere. They didn’t know what he needed. He put on his warmest jacket and thickest pair of socks and stuck the last note from his only daughter in his pocket. He knew he would see her again soon. With only a Swiss army knife and an insulated steel bottle of water, he opened his window and jumped.

He doesn’t remember landing, but soon enough he was on his way. He first approached the tree that he knew was a marker to turn left. He saw his brother hacking away branches, the way they did to make it look like a dragon in the first place. He stopped and watched what he was transforming it into next. It seemed to be an angel of sorts. He called out to him to stop, that he wouldn’t remember how to get back if he changed the appearance of the tree, but he was already gone. An owl with a heart shaped face stood in his place. Barry made a mental note to try to remember the angel’s wings, which remained unchanged.

The path seemed to wind and wind, much longer than he had remembered. He heard rustling and noticed people following him every once in a while, but he wasn’t worried. He didn’t mind company. He only wondered where they might be going. Did they know about the cave as well?

The boulder still sat in the same spot on the very edge of the ever-eroding path. One day it will fall even further than it already has. He wondered how it hasn’t yet, and if when it finally does, the person below it will be as lucky as his brother. He saw his father appear on top of the boulder. He watched him wedge his way between it and the wall of stone it rested against. He began to push, slowly inching it towards the cliff it resided near. Barry rushed forward to attempt to push it back into place. He always remembered being much stronger than his father ever was, but the force he was applying to the boulder was too much for him to handle. He moved aside to avoid being tossed down the cliff with the boulder. He watched it slip deeper and deeper into the valley, and he felt a strong urge to gather the stones that were chipping off of it to hopefully replace them on the path where the bouder should be. He grabbed the few that were left on the path, and set them down in the divot the boulder left behind. His father was nowhere to be seen, but the owl had returned, again in his place. Barry made a mental note to remember the stones were all that was left of the boulder and continued on.

Still confident in his internal compass, he marched westward on a still seemingly longer path than normal. Hunger was beginning to take over. His fellow hikers reminded him of his preparations and he grabbed his bottle and knife. The water had already begun to freeze and he was just now realizing the knife was too small to be of any use in hunting. He hung onto it in hopes it would be enough to cut a few branches off the raspberry bushes.

He heard his grandkids laughing as he neared the bushes. He hacked away a couple of branches to share with them when they reached the cave. He kept hacking away as he walked past them, not knowing how hungry they would be. As he was nearing the entrance of the cave, he turned around and looked out at the raspberry bushes. He had grabbed more than he had intended to, and all that was left were some bare brambles. The owl perched on a branch, guarding the last few berries. Barry made a mental note that the bushes were still there, just fruitless.

Upon entering the cave, he was greeted by his adored grandchildren and daughter. They hadn’t come to visit in so long he almost forgot what they looked like. They hadn’t changed a bit. They caught up over raspberries and stories of remember when, and he didn’t even realize he couldn’t remember how to get back.

***

The next morning, his doctor found Barry outside his nursing home window, in his pajamas, a raincoat, mismatching socks, and holding a plastic cup and a pen. The autopsy revealed he had passed away instantly upon impact with the ground. The pathologist assured his doctor he did not suffer physically. The doctor then went to collect Barry’s records, and upon doing so, heard a barn owl outside the window. When he glanced in its direction, all he saw was the waning flutter of wings. He reached for Barry’s records and took down a list of people to contact, but after a quick search, he realized there was nobody left to call.