I turned left, heading West, into a grove. I was so sure that I was right. But all of the sudden, everything was unrecognizable. The sun was starting to set. I was out of water and I was exhausted. I felt disoriented and not able to think clearly. I went down into a valley I thought I recognized but it wasn’t what I thought.
I took a deep breath and retraced my steps, heading back East. Finally, and luckily, I found my way back to the dirt bike path I recognized.
I walked North toward the direction of my spot for a long time. I had a dawning realization that I had been completely off when I had turned West into that grove of trees. The correct turn towards my spot was another half-mile North up the trail.
Finally, I got to the intersection with the cow trough that I recognized and from there I could see my tarp. I got back- sweaty, exhausted, and parched.
I once was lost but now am found.
Home sweet home.
It was the coming back that was so right and good. The arrival was so sweet and welcomed. It’s the coming back that’s the best part. But to come back, you must first get lost.
I thought of my grandpa. He must have been so scared when he got lost in the car driving around Pittsburgh.
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