Mile 371. The forest welcomes me.

The forest welcomes me back from my hiking hiatus.  It’s dappled with sunshine this afternoon; and a slight breeze shimmers the trees.    A short shake-out hike still counts in their forgiving eyes.    They’re just glad to see me.

The birds chirp a “hel-lo, hel-lo, hel-lo” and a   a “swee-swee-swee-swee-sweet”.   The little fat brown and purple fella hops on the soft leaves and cocks his head, “Pheo-nix.  Phoe-nix.”

Even the red effs come out to greet me, a rare and welcomed sight.   Eight of them total - one at the start of each new mile - wagging their tails with their little eff smiles.  

My afternoon is a dramatic contrast from my morning.  New York City has the same magnetism as a bee hive.   A buzz of purposeful chaos.    An epicenter of heightened productivity.    The rhythm pulls me, calls me, hypnotizes me.  

And yet.

Something about the City puts me on high alert.  While I feel safe, I don’t feel secure.  My instincts tell me to be wary.  My blood pulsates, my eyes dart, my heart speeds up.   My sleep is even suspicious; I keep one eye open.

While I’m thrilled for the opportunity to get off trail to honor my dear friend, I’m equally thrilled to be back home on the Appalachian Trail.

I breathe in a long and peaceful pine scent.    And I let out a contented sigh.   This is where I’m supposed to be.