Emerson spoke in his ear as he briskly walked through the brush, his legs dampened with cold morning dew: "Though we travel the world over to find the beautiful, we must carry it with us or we find it not." Beauty was with him-in his heart and mind-and he was on a familiar path to find it anew. Images of beauty comforted his work-drained mind and hastened the beat of his aging heart. The great writer and philosopher always brought comfort to the man, especially in times of nervous excitement. "To find the beautiful," he reiterated as he saw young buds on the bushes, heard awakening birds as they filled the air with song, and smelled the freshness of life. Perfect conditions to fulfill his secret commitment to her. He knew she waited for him. It was the appointed rendezvous time and place.
He couldn't run through the woods like a young man, like the young man he was when they first met. His knees wouldn't handle it and his appreciation for the fauna encountered along the way precluded him from bashing through brush and path. As briskly as he could move, while getting him to the agreed upon location, he also took in all the sights, sounds and aromas. He loved this place and all it had meant to him over the years. Memories developed into memoirs in his mind. The stories read themselves aloud in his head.
She was much younger when they first encountered each other. But, of course, so was he. Both carried the marks of aging, but such "imperfections" presented no impediment to his appreciation of her. He was blind to them, just as the rest of the world was blind to the two of them.
As far as he knew, they had never been observed together, and they met under these circumstances to assure their secret stayed safe. They had held to that for many, many years.
Life had been hard in many ways for him-this self-professed kindred spirit to Emerson-as he overcame gentleness to be a firm, yet human, boss; as he deflected poetic notions to write sales prose; as he always carried enthusiasm through the gauntlet of bureaucracy. He had a wonderful life of responsibilities and opportunities, but it was often conflicted. She eased the conflicts and swirled together life's currents until they became a controlled force instead of a drowning killer. He seemed to need her influence the most at the predetermined times they were to come together.
"Make yourself necessary to somebody. Do not make life hard to any." Again, the great writer was speaking. The middle-aged man listened, and then asked himself if he was following the advice. He wondered about himself, his work, and his life's call. He thought of her. Were they necessary to each other?
They became necessary to each other almost immediately upon meeting. That they would continue meeting was preordained. The place of their first meeting was further down the trail. He was about halfway to what had become their spot. The question of "necessary" was tricky, especially since the necessity changed based on what was happening in life. The call to "not make life hard to any" was a little easier to keep clear, he thought. She never made life hard for him: the perfect secret partner. From the beginning they were discrete. He tried to not make things hard on her, but there was really no way for him to know whether he succeeded or not. And once he touched her, there was no turning back. It was inevitable that they would commit to regular meetings, at any cost. Life is short, he pondered. "There's no way of knowing how long this can continue," he told himself. The calm that came to him each time he planned for the forest rendezvous overpowered any fears, anxieties or concerns.
She was a friend in a sense that would garner the nature-loving Emerson's approval. The fast-walking man was proud of that.
He lost his train of thought for a few moments when he noticed the light, not fingers of light as when he first hit the trail, but the sculpting light of a powerful, revealing, warming sun. Light fell into previously shadowed areas, revealing natural details that tweaked the man's obscured poetic heart.
A snake slid across still-wet leaves. The serpent-black and gray but moving too fast to identify-reminded him of the times that he and his friends chased copperhead, hognose and garter snakes in the woods.
He recalled many childhood adventures "at the bayou" near his house in Houston. A major tollway now crosses over what was once the dirt, trees, and swamps that grew out of favor with the booming city as the young boys of the neighborhood grew out of the area and became young men.
Nature always brought comfort and time for reflection. It always called him back. Back to feeling alive. He often read under trees, taking in Emerson's words-or Thoreau's or Aristotle's or Frost's-while taking in life from around him to energize the soul within him. He did it as a kid. Did it as a man.
There was a noise in the water up ahead. His pulse quickened. It must be her influence that caused the disturbance. He slowed to accommodate his curiosity, not because of a diminishing interest. They were both upholding their commitment to secrecy, and despite his desire to "come clean," he knew he couldn't. The truth could put an end to what they had. Twenty years ago it began as a secret, and quickly it became inevitable that they would continue to seek each other out without telling others. No stories of conquest. No photos for the desk. No written evidence of the sensations of touching her or to the poetry of her in motion.
A gentle, respectful smile enlivened wrinkles in his face and at the corners of his eyes. Hers glistened. She was across the way, near the edge of the water. He moved to reach out to her. Slowly he reached out, using a Wooly Bugger on a light tippet with a perfected roll cast. It landed gently on the calm pool surface, under the branches of the tree at the shore. She rose silently in reply, and again they were connected. After some time he would release, and some three months later, he would again be ready for their next encounter. When asked later that day, "Did you get anything?" he would reply as he always did, "Nothing, but I got to feel alive again." Their secret remained intact