what is here will soon be gone

Saturday, the guys from Band of Brothers and I backpacked into the woods that surrounded the house I grew up in. When I was a boy those woods used to be so desolate and quiet. There were hundreds and hundreds of acres of nothing but trees and water. A mile or so into the woods sat an abandoned house and more old cars than I'd ever seen in one place. As a child and then a teenager I would spend entire days just hiking around, scouting new routes through the trees, searching for areas I'd never been, climbing into the abandoned house, or just sitting on a hillside enjoying the solitude of the place. I can remember only two times ever seeing another person, and both times they were on a four-wheeler riding a far off trail. The woods were my own little sanctuary to get away and be alone with nature. My parents didn't own any of that land, but I still felt like it was all mine. When I was 16, a neighbor from up the road bought all the land and planted about ten thousand pine trees in an attempt to reclaim it and build condos around the lake. Thankfully, that never happened. So even thought the land was scarred with tractor tire paths and leftover tree boxes, it remained empty of visitors. And it remained my own secret escape.

Last year I took Andrew, Brad, and Evan back into those woods to camp. It was my first visit back in almost ten years. The first thing I noticed was the dock that someone had built across the lake from our campsite. As we hiked into the woods, I noticed the old trails were gone and had been replaced by new roads and bulldozed trees. An entire section of pond had been filled in and was gone. The ugly roads led to more roads and more destruction. The abandoned house and cars were gone and a huge commercial warehouse was in it's place. It was an image I was unprepared to see. Our last day there, Ell, Lyndsay, and Kyle joined us in the woods for breakfast. I wanted to share with them a special place, so we took some guns and hiked to an area where my Dad had taught me how to aim and shoot. No sooner had we started to fire off some rounds, a voice yelled out for us to stop. It turned out the spot was no longer owned by my neighbor and we were trespassing. Even though we shared a laugh about the angry man's floppy hat and the fact that we all had guns and he didn't, inside my heart was crying. A special place I'd shared with my Dad was now gone to me. I could not return.

As we hiked in this year, the dock across the lake was filled with people and music and trucks and everything unnatural to the woodsy-quiet environment we were hoping for. The quiet solitude I'd promised the guys wasn't to be. Sunday morning I hiked into a fishing spot I'd enjoyed as a kid only to see more bulldozer paths and more evidence of people destroying nature. I ran into my old neighbor and told him of our presence on his land. After he granted me permission to hike, I led the guys into the woods to hike to the nearest town. The woods I had once been able to hike at night with no flashlight were now foreign to me. The old footpaths had been replaced by bulldozed roads and piles of trucked-in sludge and dirt. We hiked through the shrinking woods only to be met by another new landowner informing us of our trespassing. I smoothed over our error with the lady and we continued our hike. My friends laughing and joking; me with a heavy heart.

We returned later that day to find people and dogs and kids all through the woods and in the water. Many of the guys were annoyed, but ignored the interruptions by playing baseball and swimming in the lake. I didn't join them and instead grew more and more introspective as the day went on. As night set in we gathered around the campfire for dinner. I looked across the flames at Andrew who would be gone in less than month. I looked around at the rest of the guys and I couldn't help comparing this group to the woods we were sitting in. The deep friendships and constant companionship weren't gone, but the end was near. Just as the trees and leaves still hung over our heads, in a few years those too would be gone. My special bond with Andrew was slipping through my hands just as my shooting area and the old house had done. All of those changes were for progress, but none of it was progress I would have chosen. I selfishly wanted those woods to be mine forever, and I selfishly want Andrew and Brad and everyone else to never grow up and move away. Neither are things I will ever be able to control.

Soon enough all I will have is memories of what was. And despite the angst and agony I just wrote about, those memories are really good memories. My friendships with those guys have been some of the deepest friendships I've ever had. And the years I spent in those woods molded my thoughts and beliefs and ideals. I crave both, and I'll miss both. But I'll miss them b/c they were good. They were really good. And that's what I'll remember for years to come. I got to spend a few last days with the friends and the woods that I loved. No one can take those last few days from me. I walked out sad but with a smile on my face. Goodbye woods. Goodbye friends.