Where They Lie by Joe Hart

Author:Joe Hart [Hart, Joe]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-04-30T16:00:00+00:00

The day of rest stretched out cloudy and cool with spates of rain. After securing a light breakfast and the day’s supplies, we departed the house. I needed a little time away since even its bright, open spaces felt cloistering. I double-checked all the locks before we left.

We waited out a longer cloudburst in a café’s covered patio, the rain metronoming on the canvas roof. More coffee and a treat for Merrill. Then we were leaving the city for the foothills, muddled and dark on the near horizon.

We ended up on a tributary of a trail named Eagle View. It broke off from the main path a mile from the trailhead and jagged up a rock face through trees that had been old when Europeans were nosing their boats to shore on the opposite coast.

Merrill kept pace with me as the last of the other weekend hikers fell away behind us. Few knew about this place, and fewer still traversed it. Most stayed to the well-tended trails, the picturesque lookouts over streams and waterfalls where they could snap selfies or brag on social media. We ran when we could, slowed to a near vertical crawl when we couldn’t. In the early afternoon it rained, soaking us. The fear of the night before began sloughing away like stubborn grime.

The last of the hike brought us to the top of a mountain. I didn’t know its name, didn’t want to. There is a freedom in anonymity. Liberty in losing yourself in a place that’s yet to be exploited. It purifies, even if we don’t deserve it.

We stopped under a rock outcropping to take in the view. Swaths of old-growth trees spread out below the drop, and a river raged through a canyon, soundless two miles distant. As much as I loved the ocean, loved surfing, this place without its pollution of noise and people living their lives was better.

A wheel turned in my head. Here was Stephen outlined at his backyard window, his tears soaking into the fabric of my shirt. Here was Mason Roberts, quiet and resolute—already looking forward to a life of promise that wouldn’t come. Bethany Jacobs sang her songs and held her purple bear. Andrea Parish drew her eloquent designs and dreamed of never running away again.

And Paul. Paul smiled and closed his eyes.

The trick is finding a place so quiet, so full of solitude, you don’t have to think over the din—the noise other minds create. Your own creates enough by itself. Everyone should have a place to retreat to, somewhere unique that doesn’t belong to anyone, not even you. When there are no distractions, you can get down to business. Let the terrible things out of their cages you keep inside. Face them as fully as you can, let them hurt you. Bones are the strongest at a break site while they’re mending. Scar tissue is fibrous so it’s tougher than skin.

We’re told a life without pain is ideal. To avoid suffering as much as possible. But pain is where you grow.

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