Dirt Speaks
She = 0
She drove to the trailhead every morning. Hiking cleared her mind before going to work. It was her ritual. Nothing too long or too fast. Enough to forget and be in the moment. Her brain was busy when off the tree-lined path. Dirt underfoot made her feel empty. She liked the emptiness. She had been full for too long. Of family. Of lovers. Of lies she told herself.
She hid from herself with hobbies. Hiking was the only one that stuck. She had tried all sorts of things. None of them worked as well because she had to learn more and buy more. More stuff to keep track of. Stuff that cluttered her life. Things that kept her from herself. All she had to do on the trail was walk. It was simple. She realized her life shouldn’t be complicated because she wasn’t. Complications make things difficult. That was her reason for loving the trail. It made life easier.
Her workmates would ask if she hiked that morning. They did it when she clocked in. Their questions began after she joked about how bad the rain had been on the trail that morning. They were shocked that anyone would go out in such a storm. She stopped talking about her alone time because it felt like they were intruding. They weren’t. They were trying to get to know her and the dirt that was changing her.
She didn’t want to be known. Not by anyone. Not even herself. Not anymore. But they kept asking. She would nod and say the trail was fine. Then she would work with her headphones in. Music kept conversations at bay. It didn’t help that every song reminded her of someone or something or sometime or some place. But music was better than talking. She would be lost in the rhythm after a few songs. But it wasn’t the same. She figured that was why her legs found the trail. It was where she could outpace her thoughts. It was how she forgot loss and got lost.
She felt people asked about her hikes because they were waiting for her to quit. She wouldn’t. Couldn’t. Their questions increased her commitment. She believed that it was the only way she benefited from others. They didn’t know she had learned from them how not to quit. She appreciated them for the gift of wanting to take the trail from her. It didn’t matter whether someone knew it or whether it was their goal or by accident. They wanted the power she found on her feet. She knew they weren’t willing to wake up early and do the work like she was. They would’ve done it already if they were like her. They weren’t. She questioned whether they even liked her.
She felt that those around her lived vicariously through her. It made her afraid that one day she would hike for them. Then the choice wouldn’t be hers. It wasn’t fair. She was trapped. Her only escape was to stay on the trail where no one would see her. Maybe they wouldn’t remember her if she stayed. She didn’t want to be remembered. She’d rather be forgotten. Her memories were burdens better left behind. She’d been left behind before. She didn’t like it at first. But she wouldn’t have found her trail if it hadn’t happened. She called him and said thanks. He never called back. The trail healed her hurt. She wondered if others could be restored the same way.
It rained again. She hiked again. Coworkers asked if she did. She nodded before going on with her work. A woman named Mary approached her in the afternoon and asked if she could join her the next day. It was the first time anyone had come to her with that question. She wasn’t prepared. She said yes. She couldn’t stop the welcome from spilling out of her mouth. Saying no was never her strength. They met the next morning at 6 a.m. She did not like her solitude being taken from her. Mary filled the emptiness she enjoyed. That sentiment didn’t last long. She learned that Mary was on the same page.
The trail was muddy. It had rained the night before. She was prepared with high-top hiking boots. Mary wore walking shoes. It reminded her of when she met the dirt. She would have been annoyed with Mary if she hadn’t made the same mistake herself. She smiled instead.
She explained to Mary that the hike was her alone time and that talking wasn’t her strength. Mary said she was there to move her legs and not her lips. She kept the pace slower than usual. Mary wasn’t in great shape. Neither was she when she started hiking. She watched Mary’s gait. It looked like how hers felt months ago. Awkward and heavy-footed. She wondered how many steps it had taken her to learn to hike as she does now. Self-assured and surefooted. Then she wondered how many steps it would take Mary. She questioned whether Mary would show up the next morning.
Mary did. They walked in silence. The days passed. Mary bought boots. Mary showed up on time every morning. It took weeks for her to regain the emptiness that Mary’s presence had filled. Her complete happiness on the trail returned even though Mary was with her. Accepting Mary’s request was a sacrifice she did not intend to make. Selfishness was her respite in the wake of so much turmoil. She kept to herself and did her own thing. Mary told her that’s why she asked to join.
Mary wanted what she had. Mary lacked the confidence to go alone and figured she would find it on the trail. Mary didn’t find what she lacked. Mary earned whatever it was she didn’t know she needed. It took countless steps to get there. Neither of them could put a finger on what the trail provided. It was more than happiness and more than fitness. Those were welcome byproducts of their daily hikes. The dirt’s gift was incomprehensible and impossible to explain.
She and Mary rarely said a word to each other when on the trail. The morning routine became an unspoken agreement. Show up. Lace up. Step out. Breathe hard and go far. Mary lost weight. She did too. She advised Mary not to count the pounds. The more pleasing way was to feel the belt and pants loosen. She would buy new pants when they no longer fit well. Mary did the same. They encouraged each other by complimenting their shrinking wardrobes. They agreed that it wasn’t necessarily the point or their reason for hiking anymore. The dirt and woods were what mattered. Their walks in nature with the sky overhead somehow improved what was within them. That was the purpose of the trail. It was the reason why they kept going.
It didn’t take long for her to enjoy having Mary around. The first few hikes weren’t her favorite. She realized that she had been a quiet example at work. It didn’t occur to her that others watched and wanted what she had because she was doing something right. She became a leader for the first time. It wasn’t a role she was prepared for. It was a role the dirt gave her to enjoy for a while before being shared with others. She understood that it wasn’t Mary who asked to join. The dirt itself had called Mary. It was the dirt that told her to bring Mary along. It took longer for her to recognize the dirt’s voice than it did for her to warm up to Mary.
She learned that she was too internal when she hiked alone. That silence and isolation had been keeping her from hearing the trail speak. It had words and lessons for her. Things she couldn’t flee from or figure out on her own. That’s why the forgetfulness that hides in thousands of steps became so enjoyable. She could be absent-minded and free as she moved through the trees bathed in morning light. She ignored the dirt for too long. The dirt spoke without words. She heard without ears. She asked if Mary heard it too. Mary shook her head. She told Mary to listen to the way she walked. Mary did and quickly learned the language.
It spoke from under them. Others at work sensed the secret they had been told but had not shared. They watched her and Mary and wondered.
She consulted Mary when another asked to join. They told Julia to keep quiet so she could hear the trail speak. They weren’t being rude. They wanted Julia to listen to the dirt and hear its words with her feet. Julia nodded at the sage advice and showed up the next morning at 6 a.m. wearing new boots. They knew the dirt told Julia about their footwear mistakes. She and Mary didn’t know how it could do that or how Julia could hear the dirt’s voice without being there firsthand.
Julia was nearly weeping at the sight of the leaf-covered trail. It was cold. They wore layers that shed as the miles passed. She led Mary. Mary led Julia. Under their feet sang a choir. Together they walked several miles. They showed up to work looking different than the others. None spoke of the experience. She learned long ago not to. Her behavior and actions spoke for themselves. Mary followed suit. So did Julia. Their quietness was too loud for the others to discount.
Not every coworker wanted her to fail when she started hiking. A few did. That’s how some people are. Most were curious. They had their own physical and mental struggles that kept them in the same place they had seen her escape from. Now they were seeing her success feed Mary’s. Julia was making faster progress than they had imagined and wasn’t too far behind because it was given attention and nourishment earlier in the process.
It took her a long while to figure it out for herself. She wasn’t keen on having company when Mary showed up. That was resolved in short order by knowing Mary through her steps and not her words. Julia had no such period and was brought up to speed on day one. Julia learned and cherished the peace that movement brought. Julia’s mind calmed with long strides and swinging arms. Her and Mary’s spirits sang for Julia’s as it became untethered and floated towards heaven in the same way they had seen and felt their own.
The three kept meeting to hike under the agreement that being on the trail was the goal. They knew they should keep it that way because they would benefit anyway. Seeking other goals distracted them from the dirt. Everything and everywhere else took their hearts and minds elsewhere when they needed to be using their feet to hear the trail’s secret words. The unknown language was learned between steps and breaths.
The trail cheered for them. Hearing its praise further changed them. Others could no longer overlook this fact. Those around had more frequent questions. She told them that Mary and Julia met her at the trailhead at 6 a.m. and that there were two rules: Hike and don’t talk. She said it was simple. Not many believed her or took the invitation. Two more did.
Pat and Terry showed up one morning. They had carpooled together and bought boots together. Now there were five. She led with Pat and Terry following Mary and Julia. None of them could see her smile. She felt it growing and tried to keep the edges of her mouth from curling up. It felt strange. She was happier than she had been in years. She had convinced herself that she liked being alone. The dirt taught her that it wasn’t true. She kept it that way for so long because she was punishing herself. It wasn’t fair to her. She finally came to value herself after shedding her self-hatred on the trail. Others valued her for who she was because the dirt had revealed her true self to them.
The dirt uncovered her as she discovered it. She had hidden herself in excess and lies for too long. Things that buried her. Now people saw her. She was making friends. The first was the trail. It was an honest and simple friend. It taught her its way and taught others through her. It was more than a means of changing her life. It was the way she began living when before she had been barely surviving in a self-destructive and senseless loop of existence. The trail made sense. It made her.
Three more joined. They found themselves in the emptiness that was the trail. Fullness soon followed. She smiled for herself and smiled for them.