Poems, stories, and reflections, written by faculty, staff, and volunteers currently serving in the Village.
It all started last week. I was hiking my little heart out. The day was clear, but the trail was not, littered with fallen tree debris. One of my companions was my dear friend Krista. She started kicking some little twigs off the trail rather than stepping on them.
Through the fog of my physical exertion, a thought emerged: Wait, what if I could actively better my surroundings rather than just trudging through the brambles gathering scratches? I gave a little branch an experimental kick. It flew off the trail with a satisfying arc, landing feet away. Ooooh. Hoohoohoo. That was fun. I kicked a few more branches. Then I picked up a small stick and flung it into the woods, watching it fly gracefully in neat little spins before disappearing into the undergrowth. “UGH YASSSSS,” my spirit cried out.
Suddenly, something changed in me. I was the trail maiden of the north, as some primal woodland instinct awakened and roared. I picked up an entire tree, relishing in how surprisingly light it was. “I can do it,” I whispered in manic glee. “Drop it,” said Krista, looking slightly afraid of the wild gleam in my eyes. And, perhaps for the first time in her life, she took up the role of the Responsible Friend against Spontaneity.
Well when Krista is advising you against rash action, you should probably listen to her. So I did. But the need to lug heavy pieces of dead wood still haunts me. So, hey Ops, if you like, need a trail crew member, I’m very available. Very, very available.
Becca Carcaterra is Human Resources Assistant at Holden Village. This column was originally published on May 15, 2020 in a daily newsletter, "The Quarantine Quarter," which is compiled by various staff members and sent to all Villagers.