"Greetings and salutations," I sat down trying to think of something to write today when an older lady, probably around seventy or so, asked if I'd mind if she joined me; I told her not at all and so she sat down next to me on the decaying yet sturdy log. She asked me if I came here often, I told her usually; except in the summer due to the heat. She laughed and politely complained about the excessive humidity as older people often do. I asked her what brought her here, she said I looked like I could've used the company. That wasn't what I meant, and I think she knew that because when I paused and looked at her thoughtfully, she grinned that all-knowing smile that older people often do. She asked me if I hadn't someplace to be or people to see, which caused me to chuckle whole heatedly, shake my head and admit that I would not be missed. For you see, at that moment I know that I would've still been in class. In the distance a large band of crows sounded off and then silence, pure and utter silence. M glance darted away from the conversation and when I had turned back to my temporary companion, she was shaking her head, as if dismissing my concern as one would that of a three year old. She said that it was hardly healthy for someone my age to be so jumpy. I told her that I preferred to think of it as being guarded and that I found I lived longer this way. She smiled a defeated smile, but only for my sake. For a little while, our conversation consisted of pure pleasantries; talk of weather, the seasons and things of this nature. I looked to the sky and the sun was vanishing behind the clouds, retracting the light which had previously bathed the land. I found it ironic that at high noon, the sun should make it's exit for the day and subsequently leave the land at the mercy of the harsh winds. I took a swig of my beverage to which she declined my earlier offer to share. She asked me how I'd been out here, and I honestly answered "three hours," mentioning that my mother would kill me if she were to find out. Taking another belt I saw her glancing at my cap. I believe she realized I had taken notice for she then asked me where I had gotten it and why I wore it. I obliged her by answering both questions, to which she began to mention her husband. He had died and apparently they use to walk this stretch together every week. The reflectiveness in her eyes told me that this was recent enough to merely listen and not enquire further. She continued on that he too got his caps from the same shoppe and disliked baseball hats just as much as I did. Finding it odd to have this much in common with an old man I later committed myself to thoughts on the matter, which admittedly have no present bearing on the story thus far. Having finished her story, of which the rest I shall not relate, I commented on the sudden arousal of the squirrels nearby in an attempt to avoid the possibility of an awkward silence. She replied that it had to do with the fact that not only was it growing colder, but that it may soon rain. I asked her how she knew that, she said she had watched the weather earlier in the day before she set out. That wasn't what I meant, and I think she knew that too. She motioned as if to leave, but I asked her for yet one more moment of her time, promising that I mean not to impose. Intently I looked at her, a question still burning a hole in the back of my mind, begging to be reconciled. I asked her how, upon passing, she gathered that I could've used the company. She smiled and looked at the surrounding tress. They were bare and lack the charm I had come to expect and the beauty they once possessed but months ago. Then, settling her tired eyes back on me, she said that his was the spot which her husband, in his middle-agedom had come to when trying to escape his problems. She said that he never knew that she knew, but said by the way he use to linger around the spot she just knew. She confessed that she never found out what use to bother him so, even to this day. Upon hearing this I paused, taking in the idea that there was some odd connection. As if recognizing my thoughts, she smiled a gentle smile, as older people often do. Before she left, she imparted some advice, suggesting that I stay there as long as I needed to, to figure out what was troubling me. As she got up she thanked me for the talk and told me that although I had thoughtful eyes, my expression was very empty. With that, she left very slowly down the hill and out of sight. I hadn't realized it 'til then, but she was right. Originally I had thought this little was to simply avoid being caught up at school; or at least that's what I convinced myself of. So I at there for another four hours, living off of tic-tacs and Perrier until it grew darker and darker still. Then, in establishing the folly in further staying, I took my leave. At the end of it, I'd had so many hours to myself hat my thoughts yielded perhaps too many fruits, mostly incomprehensible indeed. To that end, I drove to a restaurant and meditated over a drink, attempting to collect my thoughts. Finally I realized that I wasn't trying to escape the world, but that at the time, I was trying to escape my world. Tings aren't bad though, I mean, I'm still alive but what I realized is that in an attempt to prove somewhat optimistic, through potentiality, I've always seem to look at thins from the top down, or bottom up; always in relation to something else and never taking the situation for simply what it was. "could be worse," "not bad..." whatever happened to just good or plain great? Part of the trouble with cutting out the extremes in your life is that good and great are eliminated along with bad and terrible. Seems to me... or at least at the time it did... that I'd not intentionally but inadvertently given up these rights. 'Safety first' as they say, but you tell me folks; would you ever give up feeling great if it meant that you'd never feel terrible again? I mean, the middle way is fine and dandy, but living that way with your emotions? I suppose a devotion to this way of thinking would render one mostly detached... or at least detached in comparison to how the rest of us live. To quote someone I once knew, "I wouldn't give up feeling great for anything in the world because that's what actually makes life worth living. Besides, the good times are what get you through the bad times... a kinda light at the end of the tunnel." The question I ask is if you'd trade it. Be careful, lady luck doesn't lay with just anyone; take my word for it. As for the old lady, I haven't seen her again, which may actually be a good thing in and of itself. Nice lady and all, but a little too close for comfort... probably on both ends or so I tell myself. FYI, amongst other things, she was right about the rain. Signed, - Captain B. Guarded