Page 6 of Cedarwood Cabin

“I don’t want you to be lonely,” he says gently.

“Well, I have you, so I’m not lonely…”

He takes a deep breath and looks at me. “Flora, I won't be around forever.”

It is a truth I can’t ignore; he is right.

My thoughts drift back to my sheltered life. I didn't mind being alone, losing myself in paintings or books. However, the thought of loneliness terrifies me. At home, I always knew my mother and father were present in the background, even if I spent most of my time in my bedroom.

Living with my father at the age of twenty makes me feel like a burden, like an obstacle in his life. Perhaps he wants to pursue his interests and have his own freedom.

“So…Nancy. How do you feel about her?” my father asks, avoiding eye contact and shuffling his feet.

“The woman who works at the local bar?”

“Yeah…”

“Uh, she’s nice. Why?”

“Well, I wanted to ask her out for dinner,” he says, focusing on a spot on the forest floor.

I never thought this day would come—my father being able to move on from my mother. I can’t blame him for wanting companionship; it's been four years since my mother's death. For so long, it has just been me and him.

“She would never replace your mother. Your mother was the love of my life,” he says, lifting his head and looking at me.

“Dad, honestly, it’s fine. I understand...”

I reach out for his arm and steady my voice. “Mom would want you to be happy,” I say.

He takes a deep breath, swallows hard, and nods. “Thank you, Flora.”

It took him a lot of courage to ask me that. At that moment, I don't just see my father; I see a man who has endured loss and is now taking his own steps to heal.

“Save me from cooking?” he asks with a faint smile. “I thought we could grab a bite to eat at the bar after the hike.”

“Sounds like a good idea.”

I pick up my backpack, dusting off a few pine needles that have fallen from the trees above. I sense that my father feels better after getting that off his chest.

“Thank you again, Flora,” my father says with gratitude in his eyes.

Before we continue our hike I adjust my straps, making sure the backpack’s weight is evenly distributed.

I pass the bottle of water to my father and he tucks it back into his own bag. We set off and resume our hike through the forest.

Every step back to the truck feels like an effort. I am completely shattered by the hike and my legs throb with an ache. My father notices and opens the truck door for me as I throw my bag into the backseat with the last bit of strength I have. I collapse into the passenger seat, letting out a deep sigh.

My father climbs into the driver's seat with a groan. He must feel the same fatigue I do.

We don’t speak, a mutual understanding between us as we sit in silence. The cool, fresh air fills the truck. I glance over at my father as he focuses on driving, but I can see a hint of satisfaction in his eyes after completing our hike.

Breaking the silence, I ask, “You mind if we skip the bar?”

“The hike has really taken a toll on you?” I can see the disappointment on his face as he turns around and glances at me.

“My legs are aching...” I admit, giving him a weary smile.

“Well, if you don’t mind,” he begins, “I want to see Nancy. Is it okay if I drop you home?” he asks, hesitating slightly.

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