An uneasiness settled on Preet. Everything that had been before seemed to have run off and hidden from his sight and comprehension. Quietly he drank his coffee, as though something would eventually dawn on him. His morning coffee usually appeased him. But this morning it did little to give him relief. Preet pulled a tin from his drawer and decided to roll some tobacco to calm his nerves. He lit his cigarette, but the tobacco tasted stale on his tongue. It lingered there like a foul reminder of something he had forgotten. Dissatisfied with his morning he set off in the direction of his tool shed to fetch his ax and wheelbarrow. Preet walked into the shed and had to take a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. He pulled on his protective gear, but when he turned to the notch where his ax usually hung at eye level, Preet was confused then annoyed to see that his ax was no longer where he had put it. He glanced around but the red steel ax was nowhere to be seen. Preet cursed under his breath then made his way to his worktable. He pulled the chainsaw off the slab and made sure that despite several idle months, it still could run. Fortunately it did.
Preet slowly walked to the edge of his house and turned east towards the woods. The air was moist, and a chill ran through his bones. He felt as though he were walking through snow even though it was still early fall. When he got to a clearing he turned towards the elm trees and started the motor on his chainsaw. Preet preferred the feel of his ax hitting the wood. He liked making the first dent through the bark, and then adding to the welt with deep solid hits. The chainsaw removed his intention. It transferred the energy and any sense of satisfaction to the growling blade, and made Preet feel inconsequential and somehow an observer to what was going on between the blade and tree. As he stood there aiming his blade on one of the lower branches, Preet felt an unbearable sadness overwhelm him, but he could not be sure of the source. He was a quiet man and used to being surrounded by the silence of the trees and open sky. Loneliness floated in and out of his life like the seasons, so it seemed an unlikely reason for his present mood. As he stood there watching the blade slide through the branch, he became mesmerized by the sound and movement taking over his body. It was only when the branch fell away from the trunk of the elm, that he awoke from his waking dream. He kept going for two hours and then piled the trunks one by one onto his wood stand and began the task of shortening the trunks into logs.
Preet put down his saw. He had cut enough wood to last him a week. âWho is there?â Preet called out again, even though he sensed the futility of his questions. In his intense focus, the woodsman had not taken notice that the sun had started its slow descent, and the moon appeared like a white hollow reflection peering down at him from the belly of the sky.
He stood there for a few moments contemplating the darkness beyond the edge of the trees. In his fourty years of life, he had come to these woods so often. How many times had he hit the blade of his ax against their tough skins without any thought or worry. He had stopped seeing the edge between himself and the woods as a difference, and he had forgotten that he was simply a visitor in their midst. Without thinking Preet crossed himself. He had not been to church since the age of 11, but he still held onto some of the common rituals like physical impulses he couldnât repress.
Bending over he picked up the logs that had rolled over and away from his stand, and piled them into his wheelbarrow. Making his way out of the woods, Preet realized with some shame that he had taken so much for granted. He was unsure as to what those cries meant exactly, or where they came from, but he felt certain that they were calling out to him to remember his place within their wooded space. His father had often taught him to appreciate the quiet and respectful ways of the woodsman, but he had stopped heeding his lessons.
As Preet neared his cabin, he felt the weight drop from his sturdy frame. He knew he was a man of the woods, but he would never forget again that the woods did not belong to him.
