https://Voice.club - For two years, my siblings and I have walked this Alaskan road, but today I am alone. The 1.5-mile trek from bus stop to home is my time of meditation and enjoyment of nature. Red and yellow Indian Paintbrush peek at me from the undergrowth, and dangling blossoms of columbine sway in the breeze. After a fire, fireweed with its brilliant purple flowers grows in abundance, proof that beauty comes from pain.
A Canadian Jay squawks at me from the branch of a Sitka spruce, and I reply in kind. I am a confident 12-year-old; the world is mine.
Today my brothers, Thomas and Alan, are playing at our nearest neighbor’s, one-half mile back, and my sister Julie has stayed at school for band practice.
Ambling down the road, I close my eyes to bask in the warmth of the sun. True fall days are rare at this latitude; we quickly learn to thoroughly enjoy the few we have. Hearing a rustle behind me, I quickly stop. The sound stops, then starts up again as I renew my walking. This is repeated: I walk, the sound follows me, then ceases when I stop.
“Thomas!” I think to myself. “He and Alan are following, trying to scare me! Well, I’ll just show I’m not afraid.”
I pick up my pace a bit, swinging the bookbag in my hand as I begin to sing one of the most carefree songs I know. “I am a happy wanderer upon the mountain track . . .” I “Valderi” and “Valdera” the rest of the way down the road.
When I reach home, I congratulate myself on not giving my brothers the pleasure of seeing me scared. Turning around in triumph, I fully expect to see them laughing at me from the drive. To my astonishment, a totally different sight meets my eyes.
There, sauntering along the driveway between the spruce trees on one side and our flower bed overbrimming with shooting stars and pasqueflowers on the other, is the black bear that had followed me home from school.