We walked peacefully in the woods, enjoying an easy trail in a dense 55-acre preserve that holds a steep ravine and babbling brook below. This intimate forest welcomes us into its calm atmosphere any time we choose to venture off the road. Our new traction cleats wrapped around our boots give us confidence that we won’t slip as our steps press the light new coating of snow down to the deeper crusty layer below. We take in the beauty of the tall hemlocks in winter. Notice the abundance of the fallen trees covered with four or five inches of pure white snow. The snow makes everything look different, brings new light into the forest and creates lines and patterns not previously evident. My son, my walking companion, stopped to notice the gently curved rows of snow clinging to the smooth edge of a tree trunk, one that must have been cut to keep the trail clear. “It’s weird how the snow stays on to the tree that way, kind of in the pattern of the rings” he observed. Maybe it’s just gravity working, I thought. The snow won’t stay on this vertical surface for long, but he makes me think that somehow in its journey from sky to tree trunk it shows reverence to the years passing, pausing in one of the meaningful patterns that nature reveals before melting away.
I remember the first time we walked this trail, thanks to a guided hike, we learned that it held some of the state’s tallest trees. My son would have been about eight then. Probably needed a little encouragement from his mom to come along, just like this day years later. “You know a walk and fresh air will give you some renewed energy. Make you feel good,” I say, unable to stop myself from wanting him to get outside when he spends too much time in his bedroom. “I know. Sure, I’ll come.” He is a very agreeable child (young man).
He is a taking the semester off from college, having experienced a first semester that presented some challenges. His struggle made me realize that we should talk less about how important it is to find the right college for each hopeful applicant and more about how actually being in, not just getting in, college isn’t always easy. There is no magic wand that creates an immediate sense of belonging simply because everyone received the same acceptance letter. At least there should be more balance between these two conversations. I regret not discussing with him that the adjustment to college is not the same for everyone. It can be overwhelming, uncertain, characterized by an endless search to try on new hats until one might fit. Beyond the academic and social pressures, perhaps some feel the self-inflicted pressure to see the new environment as a chance to re-invent themselves into someone they like more than the high schooler they left behind. Add the pandemic to the first-year adjustment and there are more unsteady waters to navigate. Despite how hard each institution has tried, no effort can bring back all of the defining college experiences Covid-19 has taken away.
The day I picked him up, two days before Thanksgiving, I arrived around noon. He wasn’t packed, his room was a mess. I started in on the tasks at hand, first finding a large black garbage bag to throw away much of what was in front of me. If college life was conducive to messiness pre-Covid, it seems the current circumstances – no roommate, a dining hall that provided take-out containers instead of the usual place of gathering, evidence of exploring “typical” college social behaviors now allowed only in small groups in dorm rooms – have enabled another level of disorder. I knew based on phone calls that some of his academic life was a bit untidy as well. Covid College 101 – it might not be what you hoped for.
I rid the room of items that should have already been in a dumpster, found a broom in an attempt to leave the floor at least surface clean, collecting dust bunnies the size of grapefruits. I kept my judgment to myself, sensing his low mood and the need for a mother’s support. After three months without him, I comfortably slipped back into that loving role. Together, with little organization yet a calm steady effort, we packed all of his belongings up into the many bags and bins he had arrived with, and miraculously fit it all into our small wagon. It was a dreary day; rain started falling just in time for us to find shelter in the car.
I began to drive east, taking in the sparse landscape and passing through the same tiny towns I observed on my drive alone that morning. It was still quiet in the car despite my passenger; he had warned me he needed to log-on to his political science class. His attention didn’t last long before he succumbed to a good car nap. The lecture exploring the differences in philosophies of Locke and Tocqueville was no match for the gentle vibrations of the straight, flat roads of Ohio.
When he woke up, I decided I needed to start probing for the thoughts inside his head. To begin to dig deeper for the reasons why his aura was uncharacteristically melancholy. It didn’t take long for him to say this: “College wasn’t what I expected.” There is more to the story. The experiences are his to keep and to share.
Three months later, we find ourselves together in the woods. He has had to make a few hard decisions in these last months, but his spirits have lifted, at least on most days. I don’t know exactly how he feels as we meander along the trail, but his inquisitive mind and open heart are present. For me, this walk, and others like it, whether alone or with company, lives up to my every expectation. Gives me new energy. Creates a calmer perspective. Allows for a moment of pause to reflect on things other than life’s daily challenges. Especially now as these pandemic days still blend but we envision a gradual ending, our steps lead us to more hopeful thoughts for the future. I am not a neuroscientist, but I believe every hypothesis and conclusion of every study that uncovers the benefits of walking in the woods: reduced stress, lower blood pressure, increased ability to focus, eased anxiety. I don’t really need to read the studies; my feelings are evidence enough. I hope my son might share some of the soothed senses I savor when expectations are delivered.
“In the snow you realize how many animals are around,” he says, looking at the deer tracks showing their many clear paths in every direction. His tracks will wander, his direction will come. I will treasure this walk in the calming woods and contemplate where my path with take me next too.
Me and My 50s 