Fish Food

I took a walk today, and tried that trail that I had always seen. It was pretty much just an access trail to a fishing spot on one of the brooks coming out of the Quinapoxet Reservoir. The trail pretty much petered out at the brook, but I hate backtracking on a walk, so I kept on plodding.

This picture was not taken on that walk. My camera batteries were dead. This is a willow tree on the Stillwater River. It will be in the river soon, thanks to our beaver friends.

All names have been changed to, well, you know...

So, there I was plodding through the woods, and it was beginning to get dark. I wasn't worried, I was only about a mile from home. I don't know why, but I had this thought that it would be just my luck to have some sort of accident that kept me from getting out of the woods. I have a friend Shanice who's husband Steve never returned from a walk in the woods, and they found his body not far behind his house in a few days. It turned out he had a heart attack and froze to death in the snow.

I didn't need to worry about anything like that, after all I had my cell phone, and could call and describe exactly where I was if I needed to. I couldn't help but wonder what went through Shanice and her sons' minds when Steve disappeared without that cell phone safety net.

Steve was a good provider, home on time when he could be, calling home when he couldn't. Active in church and he got along well with Shanice' family. A good father to his two sons. He taught them how to hunt and play ball. He also occasionally went off on a bender or a trip to Vegas for weeks at a time.

Shanice and her two sons were beyond themselves with worry and grief. Every kind of possible scenario went through their minds as they dealt with their grief and hopes that he would return safe and sound. Whether it was an unlucky accident or injury, or another bender, his return was the one thing they prayed for.

Steve's friends, well they wondered where he was, but had a pretty good idea.

I arrived at the bridge on Mill St. and my mind turned to other things. I sat down on one of the rocks that surround the small parking lot at the corner of Wachusett St. I sometimes stop there to take a break, sometimes call a friend. I pulled out the cell phone to call one. The battery was dead. My thoughts returned to Steve's heart attack. If that happened to me on that walk, I would be lying out there until next spring when the brook overflows it's banks, and I would be fish food. Without a whole lot of luck, and someone up there watching out for me.

Joe Wronski November 5, 2010