The Dark in the Middle of the Tunnel

Last night we took the tunnel to the Motherhouse and Sister Kathi decided not to turn the lights on. When I came through on my way back to the Fort, I decided to walk it in the dark alone.

What a thrill. I have always loved being in the dark by myself. We used to go on Night Walks at Silver Lake, ten little girls holding hands in a line. I always wanted to let go and hang back, to be swallowed by the silence and the solitude.

I almost got lost in the woods there one summer. Around midnight I was heading back to my cabin without a flashlight. We don't have that much lighting at camp, but the stars are usually enough. When you get into the tree cover, you can usually look up and find the trail's mirror image where the sky shows. Farther back though, the branches grow across to meet each other, and tree roots make a footpath feel like forest floor. No one had remembered to turn on the porch light at Juniper, so I shuffled along deeper into the woods, hoping I was following the curves of the path and not walking in circles, until its dark sides vaguely materialized.

Walking through a dark tunnel is easy. Even if you can't see your feet, you just have to keep putting one in front of the other. One day, I might try running.