The Mail Boxes – I

Leaving Green Cove is a difficult move — though I’ve been here only a matter of months, I’ve formed a tremendous attachment to this place. The people, the walk from the mail-boxes, blackberries along the way, the icy dip hole, the porch swing,… Yes, mostly the people.

Lisa, with her long red hair and deep, beautiful accent, and her laugh and smile that are known all over the valley of Tessentee.

Skip, like a big teddy bear with the experience and wisdom of a great oak tree — having learned over time and years through many moons and stars.

Craig and Mason — the logistite twins, laughing into the night, blaring music, helping out, and always looking loving, though somewhat confused.

At present, I’m sitting on the bridge by the mail boxes. It has rained heavily for the last day or so, so the small creek is now over flowing with energy. It flows from the top of the nearby mountains that I’ve trod with my own feet, and through what has been my home at Green Cove.

I look at the rocky stream bed and know it is only appropriate that the creek be so alive now — it is carrying not just the recent rains, but also a tremendous amount of love, caring, and phenomenally powerful experiences.

The bridge serves as a gateway for me. Coming home from expeditions, and at the end of the marathon, this bridge represented the doorway to a world where I was secure, happy, and very proud.

Perhaps that is why I now find it so hard to simply drive past and leave it behind. For on the other side — the "outside" of this bridge, I have no idea where the water flows. The gravel road which I have come to know ends, and a world of emotionally void asphalt begins. The full moon was just two days past, and I know without question that this has been the moon which I had anticipated since long ago when I was a student here. We tell students "your course begins when you leave here." Indeed.

As this moon wanes and I move on, the experiences of this summer will have impacted me forever. I leave here proud of my accomplishment and scared but ready to face my unknown future. I am Outward Bound!

Mail Boxes – II

Copyright (C), 1998, by Ashley Guberman

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