Falling in the Garden

Chapter One - Modulation

Chapter One

Modulation

I stood in anticipation before my open bedroom window, listening to the steady cadence of the rain. It fell upon the darkened world beyond and a myriad collection of sounds melted seamlessly together to form the powerful, dissonant voice of the storm. For all its predictability, there remained an element of surprise within the static-a subtle, unspoken phrase or message trying to break through the surface.

Taking one final breath of the cool, night air, I pushed away and sat down on my bed. Having already turned out the lights, I sank down into breeze-freshened covers, closed my eyes and allowed my body to relax. My soul, however, yearned to brave the outside world, to push through rain-soaked fern cover and marvel at what dark mysteries lingered beyond.

I begin here for many reasons. For one, it would then be only a matter of days before my life would forever change. I was fourteen years old. Typical fourteen year-old fears and expectations coursed through my mind and body, certainly, but I felt distanced from others my age. I had many casual friends, but only one I could completely confide in. Another reason I choose to begin at this particular point is this: that one special friend had moved away that very morning. I carried the sadness of this parting with me, but as the hours passed, I grew sadly numb to it all. Perhaps I just didn't feel like dealing with it. I was used to being alone. With my sister and father gone and only my mother to turn to, it was the only life I knew. Now, losing Joe, my first and only best friend, I suppose I might not have wanted to get through it. Here was pain I knew well. Why discard it so quickly?

Lying there in bed, the rain filled my mind, washing every thought and leaving behind only soft, grey wool. My friend's departure was a thing of forgotten stories. This tale I set temporarily aside. I thought, instead, of something special Joe and I used to do. We were fortunate enough to live on the green shore of a vast expanse of woods. Cradled in the Hudson Valley of New York State, these woods pulsed and retreated as waves against the grandeur of the Catskill Mountains. Many housing developments had sprung up over the years, but there still remained an unfathomable expanse of forest in nearly every direction. I hoped then that it would remain this way forever. I still do. Just under the legal driving age, our outdoor adventures were limited to wherever our feet or bikes could carry us. Initially, we found ourselves under the spell of Walton Lake, which lies at the bottom of the hill we lived on. My uncle had given me an old canoe and some algae-caked oars to aid in our expeditions. We explored every inlet of the lake's shore, hiking the hills beyond. This held our interest for nearly an entire summer. Our most enjoyable excursions, however, were spent in the much deeper woods near our homes. These outings went on for years, terminating that rainy evening. We even bought a huge roll of parchment paper at a nearby used book shop in Harriman to map out the trails, ravines, streams, hills, waterfalls and every other variation of land. This parchment sat rolled in a cardboard mailing tube beneath my bed. Joe's final words to me before he left our world, forgoing New York for Southern California, were these:

"Keep the map, Michael. We don't have to keep our pact anymore."

Our 'pact' was a simple one. Neither of us could explore the woods alone. We had to enter together with our map, at the ready to add a new trail extension or other marking. I had never once thought of venturing out by myself, but knew I would have to, and soon. If I didn't go out there in a day or so, I never would again. A big part of me realized that I didn't want to grow any older. Fourteen was a perfect stopping place. If I took the map out tomorrow morning, entered the woods and continued to search for unexplored territory, I might be able to hold onto my youth just a little while longer. This was definitely a plan.

I couldn't have been more naïve. I could never have imagined that the first step I took out the door the next morning would be my most significant move away from childhood. My ignorance, however, allowed me to fall into a blissful, dreamless sleep.

The window above my bed remained open the entire night, sentinel to a living darkness. To an unknown, hidden tomorrow. To the incessant, mysterious beauty of the rain.