Find me in the Woods

I took a deep breath and sank into my usual seat at the back of the bus. I always chose the one farthest back, just above the wheel, which oddly gave me an illusion of privacy—something hardly possible on a bus full of people. I glanced at the ticket in my hand, second-guessing myself for a moment. Had I made the right decision? I shook my head nervously, trying to push the doubt away.

“It’s done,” I told myself, clasping my hands against my thighs as if I could physically force myself to stay composed.

I pressed my head against the window and let it bump rhythmically against the glass. The monotonous landscape of cultivated fields and the occasional house blurred into one indistinct image as we drove along the highway. I closed my eyes as the warm June sunlight brushed against my face. I welcomed the sensation with a faint smile, allowing myself to forget for a moment why I was there.

I used to think the big city would awaken something in me, give me a sense of confidence I had apparently lacked while living in a small town. Working for a big company was supposed to be my chance to break out of my shell, become successful, and leave behind a comfortable but predictable life. It quickly became clear that I was too quiet for the constant noise of the city, too slow for the endless rush of people moving around me, and simply too much in love with nature to fully appreciate the beauty of concrete and glass.

I still remembered my first day at work. I had felt numb and suffocated. I longed to be outside, to feel the grass beneath my feet, to touch the lone tree that had somehow survived on the crowded street.

For a while, I tried to adapt. I spent my weekends decorating my rented flat with flowers meant to imitate my mum’s garden. I bought a bike so I could easily reach the nearby park each morning, just to spend a little time close to whatever scraps of nature I could find. It was there that I gathered the strength to face another day.

Even as a child, I had felt a strange urge to gently caress flower petals or run my fingers along the bark of trees. I had always preferred wandering through the nearby forest to playing with other children.

My parents always said my grandmother was responsible for my strange ways. My nana was the one who had drawn me closer to nature. She had planted every tree on our land, insisting they would shield us from evil. As a child, I had never thought much of it. Yet the way those trees encircled our little house, forming a quiet, leafy barrier against the world, had always felt unusual, almost mysterious. Walking among them, I sensed a kind of gentle power, as if they were watching over me.

My grandmother had always told me I was special and that one day I would have to fulfil my destiny. I had never really asked what she meant by that, nor had she ever explained further. I had simply accepted her words in silence, without giving them much thought.

Now she was gone. She had passed away a few years earlier. My parents had found her lying peacefully beneath her beloved linden tree, as though she had simply fallen asleep.

Sometimes, I still heard her words echoing deep inside me, as if she were trying to remind me of them. But I no longer felt special, and the destiny she had once spoken of seemed impossibly distant.