Peace

      She took a final look around the house and nodded, satisfied everything was in order. The laundry was done, folded, and tucked away. Every surface had been cleaned, and the trash bags put out on the curb. The fridge and cupboards were stocked with basic items, but nothing perishable was out. It had been a long, hard day of cleaning, and she was tired, but pleased. She stepped out the front door, locked it, and slipped the key under the doormat, then turned and walked to the road. She looked both ways before crossing, chuckling at herself for being so cautious on a quiet, residential street. 

     A five-minute walk brought her to the edge of the neighborhood, where the forest began. A walking trail, well-used, continued off the end of the cul-de-sac. She'd walked this trail many times, keeping fit as she aged, and she reminisced about the neighbors she'd met and gotten close to on the path. It was a popular route for introverts to wander, and she'd had many good, quiet conversations here with people who needed a non-judgmental ear to sort out their thoughts. 

     Years ago, someone had been kind enough to put a bench at the furthest point of the trail, when they saw she was slowing down and moving less easily. She sank down onto it gratefully. Through the branches, she could see the sky starting to turn color as the sun set. Darn, I thought I'd have more time before moving on, she reflected, then laughed softly. But that's how life goes, I guess.

     In the silence, she heard the call again. It felt exactly like it had a million times before: a pull from somewhere deep in the woods, where words - however soft and introspective - did not exist. 

     "Yeah, yeah, I hear you," she muttered, without rancor. She sighed tiredly, but got up and slowly walked around the bench. The edge of the path was thick with pine cones and dropped branches. She stood for a moment, and closed her eyes. 

     "Always before, I had things to do: a life to live, a path to find, people to help," she said softly, then paused. "There are still things to do, but I'm going to let others do them. I've had my go at this world, and now I'm ready." Keeping her eyes closed, she stepped forward, aware of a small, traitorous voice that warned her she was going to trip. 

     Her foot, encased in its orthopedic shoe, instead came down on something cushioned and springy, like moss. Sighing in relief, she walked slowly but determinedly forward, arms extended for balance, following the tug within her soul. Even with her eyes closed, she could tell the light was fading, but she kept going. Occasionally, she'd hear the sound of an animal moving through the forest, crushing dried leaves and twigs, but the path beneath her feet remained soft and level. 

     She was bone-tired when the pull that had always been there suddenly vanished, and her foot came down on a crunch of dried leaves. She stopped immediately, her eyes flying open then squinting in the unexpected light. A small clearing full of soft ferns opened before her, the full moon shining down from directly above. She walked to the center and sat down with a groan, then lifted her face to the sky. 

     "Perfect," she breathed, tears suddenly welling up in her eyes. There was no noise, just the comfortable silence of a sleeping forest. No bugs whined in the air, no birds called from the branches. There were no sounds of humans or technology anywhere; even the half-heard pitch of electricity was gone. With a sigh, she laid down, sorting through the day one last time. 

     House cleaned? Check. Let that memory go. 

     Final calls made? Check. Remember those you love and let them go.

     The will, the ownership papers, all the legal ends taken care of? Check. The new owner will arrive tomorrow. Let it go.

     All the threads of thought that she'd held on to throughout life, all the memories and details, little things to remember and keep track of: one by one, she reviewed them, and let them go. Slowly, like a room emptying, the noise in her head trickled away until finally - finally - it was quiet inside, as well. A smile crept over her face, and then all was still.

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No, don't read anything into it. I'm fine, I'm not depressed, I just felt like writing and that's what came out. I did get to enjoy some peaceful time in the forest today and while I'm all for making peace with the fact that everyone dies, I'm not ready for that just yet. It's just a story; the author happens to like blue curtains.