My family lived near the woods.
When I couldn't sleep at night, I used to sneak out the back door and stand under the moonlight. There were plenty of times I would wander into the forest fascinated by the changes that the night gave everything.
There was a hill. It had soft grass, and lots of clover. The forest ended at the bottom of the hill and I would hike my way up it steep slope. Once I made it to the top, I would sit down, light a cigarette and watch the moon rise over the swaying tree tops. I would listen to the crickets or cicadas, depending on the time of the year, and time would feel like it was slowing down. The moonlight would wash over me as I watched it climb the night sky. Eventually though, I would stretch and make my way back home.
The summer I turned seventeen, I went to Galway for the summer. During the day I worked in a café in Salt Hill. I spent my evenings jumping into the cold briney sea and I had plenty of nights watching the moon over the water and waiting for the sun to rise.
When summer was over, I returned home. My senior year was starting in a week, and I had no plans made for that year or after. I needed to get my brain back into a normal mode.
I was having problems sleeping again and decided I needed another walk.
Creeping into the backyard again, I couldn't help but wonder why I felt so compelled to go out on moonlit nights. Something about the cool night air and faint lighting seemed so peaceful. It made the days and sunlight feel so oppressive. This is what I needed to relax. For some people it was living by the ocean and hearing the waves. For others it was an exhilarating view from their high rise apartments. Mine was a quiet walk through the woods in the wee hours of night.
I found my favorite spot, at the top of the hill.
It had rained earlier that day, and the ground was damp. I had brought an old wool blanket. Setting it down, I lit my cigarette and made myself comfortable.
In the distance, I saw a pale blue glow.
It was obviously a home.
While I had been gone, someone had built a home in my woods.
It was to my right, and nestled in some trees, which is why I hadn't noticed it earlier. It was still about a quarter of a mile away. On the second story were three small windows all in a row, with a flickering light shining Morse code down on me.
It pissed me off, this house intruding on my space.
I wasn't even gone that long, how did the house get put up and moved into in that space of time?
I could feel myself getting agitated, taking smaller pulls of my cigarette, playing with it in my hands more often, running my hands through my hair.
I glared at the house, hoping the residents inside could sense it.
The part that made it worse for me was that, had the light not been on, I may not have even noticed the house.
I stubbed out my cigarette with a huff, snatched my blanket off the ground without bothering to fold it and stomped back the way I had come.
The next night found me staring out of my bedroom window. I had not slept well the night before, finally falling asleep after the sun had risen. Before going to bed though, I had checked out my window in the daylight. The offensive house was not visible from my room.
After pacing in my room for a few hours, I decided I needed a smoke to calm down. I went out the back door and lit one in the yard. I kept glancing behind me though. The last thing I needed was to get caught smoking and sneaking out.
I stepped into the woods.
Once there, I just kept walking. My feet already knew the way. I popped out at the bottom of the hill and kept going right up the side. Instead of sitting though, I just stood there, staring at the house, smoking.
The light was on again, the tell tale sign of a television on at night. I imagined I could hear the laugh track to some late night sitcom reruns.
My escape was ruined.
It made me seethe.
I wanted to get closer to the house, get up close and personal with it, invade its space like it had with mine. I had to stay on the hill and follow the light from the window until I was close enough not to lose it in the density of the trees.
And then there I was.
There wasn't anything exceptional about it. It was fairly nondescript. It had more windows on the second floor than the first and a high sloping roof to keep the snow from piling too high in the winter. The first floor had blinds closed on each window, but the second floor did not.
Once in the shadows of the back yard, staring at the only window with a light, it was worse. I could feel my lip curling in a snarl, as I looked up. This close, it seemed worse.
I stood there a long time, wondering what kind of inconsiderate person was up there. Middle aged woman in a flannel night gown, an old man who only sleeps in his boxers, or even a teenager playing video games. This got me more than anything. What if it was a teenager? One I even knew? School was starting soon and I was suddenly curious.
I looked around, noticing a good climbing tree a few feet away. I gripped the branches as high up as I could reach and hauled myself up, the bark biting me on the way up.
My hands were sticky from sap, and I just know I was getting scraped up when I realized that this was ridiculous. And dangerous. But almost halfway up to where I needed to be to see in and I was committed. Once I knew, I wouldn't have to come back again.
When I finally made it up, my arms were tired. I was a runner, not into weights, but at least I wasn't out of shape, or I wouldn't have made it. If I was paranoid before about getting caught smoking as I sneaked out, getting caught peeping into someone's room would be so much worse. Still, my curiosity was getting the better of me.
Careful to perch myself between two sturdy thick branches, I craned my neck to look into the room.
There was a girl.
This was already better than my imagination had come up with.
She was lying on her back on the bed, her small TV on across from her. The window was cracked open and I couldn't hear anything, so I guessed her volume as turned down. She was wearing a tank top and boxer shorts, her legs were tangled up in sheets, half in and half out. She had very nice legs too.
Her hair was long and dark, spread out over her pillowcase. Her face was turned away from me.
I felt a funny feeling in my chest, like something inside me unraveling.
I was a pervert. I was going to burn in hell for this. It looked like the worst scenario ever, a teenage boy peering into some unknown girl's room.
Still, I couldn't look away. I willed her to turn her face towards me. I waited.
After a little while, I made myself as comfortable as I could while still making myself as secure as possible. "A Tale of Two Cities" was playing, and although I had missed the most of it and there was no sound, I settled in to watch and to wait until I saw her face.
When the movie ended, I knew I should get going, and reluctantly climbed down adding more sap and scratches to my body.
The next night, I was obsessed.
I made sure to tuck my undershirt into my pants and wear old clothes.
Tonight I would see her face.
My feet took themselves the way they already knew and from there I followed her light like a beacon.
I found my same tree, already better at this than I had been the night before. Nestling into the same spot, I almost couldn't wait to look in to her room. I reminded myself, safety first. Another black and white film, maybe she only got the Turner Classics channel in her room.
But this time, I saw and her whole face seemed to fill my vision. The curve of her cheek, the pursed lips, the dark lashes. She was definitely a stranger. It was nothing I had envisioned and yet it was the only face that made sense.
Tonight I sat and watched her instead. The rise and fall of her chest as she breathed, the slender legs that gleamed in light of her television, and mostly her face, turned towards me in all its glory.
I leaned back against the rough bark and lit a cigarette, taking a slow drag. I felt peaceful here, relaxed. I listened to the sounds of the woods and imagined I could hear the sounds of her breath. The television light flickered over her sheets, over her skin, but mostly, I just focused on the delicate features of her face, fascinated.