The Wanderer

There was a time in my life that I got paid very well to just listen. To simply pay attention. I have been asked lots of questions. I answer some of them. Sometimes, I just smile in understanding.

I am not any smarter than most, I've just lived through a lot. “Wisdom from experience,” they say.

I listen carefully. I tell a lot of stories. Sometimes I make people feel better; help them learn something new. I am not a therapist, although occasionally I feel like one.

As I trudged down the first hundred stairs descending into the gorge, it’s not like I saw many. The few that hiked by me didn’t utter a single word. In almost every case, my existence wasn’t even acknowledged as I squeezed by on the narrow trail.

The second hundred stairs past just as uneventfully. I was enjoying the relative isolation; the escape to the privacy of my mind, heart, and soul.

It wasn’t until I could start to hear the thunderous rushing of the river close to the three hundredth that I began to pick up bits and pieces of a conversation.

Do you know how much farther down? Asked a fresh faced, if not a bit overweight young man to a thin man with a gray beard.

The other hiker frowned and pointed his finger in the direction of the river. It’s not that much farther. I detected the unmistakable sound of irritation in his voice, as if the conversation had gone on far than he was willing to be involved.

It’s my first time here. Can you tell me what way I should –

I gotta go, kid. Have fun.

Without another word the gray bearded hiker turned and headed up the stairs passing me without making eye contact. I sort of felt bad for the kid. I was less than twenty feet away from him now.

I flirted with the idea of passing him full steam ahead to avoid any exchange. After all, the sole reason I was here today was to enjoy solitude in my secret place that I discovered a few months back – a sheer rock cliff a few hundred feet off the trail where at the bottom the roaring river surged through the gorge. Another 20 minutes of hiking and I would be in that special secluded spot.

I eventually succumbed to the pained look on his face. I made eye contact and said hello. I hoped to pass by without further dialogue, but somehow I knew that outcome wasn’t part of my destiny today.

It’s my first time here. It’s really beautiful…

He fell in step with me and together we descended the remaining seventy steps to the bottom. He asked me lots of questions about the trail and gorge to which I gave short but accurate answers. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I still hoped that when we reached the bottom, he would take his leave and I would still be able to salvage my private retreat.

Instead, his pace and direction synched with mine. It appeared that whether or not I wanted it, I had a companion on my journey today.

So much for solitude.

While I didn’t much feel like chatting, I couldn’t help to notice that this man had a lot on his mind.

So, I listened.

Admittedly, not very carefully at the beginning. But as his story developed, so did my interest. Over the next several miles, I learned more about this wanderer. He was 18 and fresh out of high school. He had recently been accepted to the local community college. He was interested in science, but decided on taking liberal arts classes. Both of his parents had some sort of disability; he cared for them and tried to contribute to the household income. He didn’t have many friends. He wanted to experience life. He was scared about the future.

As he admitted his fears, it almost seemed like confession of his soul; his deep dark secret that he just wanted to get out in the open.

For the first time I actually looked right at him. He seemed almost relieved. As if he was afraid that somehow I would disapprove.

Sometimes I think a person just needs someone to tell them it will be okay. So, I did just that. He actually smiled.

When we finally completed the round trip of the trail, I sat down for a brief rest before climbing back up the 370 stairs. I assumed he would turn around with me and head back. I was surprised when he said that he finally felt great and wanted to continue exploring in the opposite direction.

With my foot on the first stair, I heard him shout. Hey, by the way, thanks for listening!

I had to smile; I hadn’t even learned the kid’s name. I didn’t get the solitude that I had in mind and I a bit surprised that I wasn’t in the least bit disappointed. Yes, somehow my mind felt clear, and I was content knowing that the young wanderer no longer seemed so lost.