The Path Home

I set off on my journey with high spirits. It was the first day after I had completed my training, and I was ready to return home and start a new life. I picked up my only earthly possessions—an umbrella and a briefcase with my extra set of clothes and a copy of my favorite book.

It had really been quite a while since I had last been home. I think I had gone back once during the holidays on my first year in school, but since then, I hadn’t taken the time to make the trip.

Ordinarily, if you took the train, it wouldn’t be that long of a journey. But I couldn’t afford such luxuries, and I would have to walk. There was a little trail that led from my hometown to the university—not too often traversed, but generally clear enough to follow.

As I reached the edge of the forest, I looked behind me at the old buildings of the university campus. What a lovely time these past few years had been. This was something I’d remember for the rest of my life.

It was really quite good weather for a long walk like this. It looked like the weather wasn’t going to get too hot. A light breeze blew through the tops of the trees, and the sun occasionally went behind some great rolling clouds.

I stepped into the edge of the woods. It was noticeably cooler inside here.

This was a pleasant forest to walk through. You could see a good distance through the trees, since there wasn’t much underbrush. Every so often, I had to cross over a little brook, which was good opportunity to refresh myself with a drink.

After walking along for a few hours, the path began to grow thinner and thinner. It appeared that no one had been this way in several years. Even so, I was pretty sure that I was still on the right track. There still seemed to be a distinct line through the forest ground ahead of me that must have been the right path.

Anyways, I figured, as long as I kept walking straight, I’d end up somewhere before too long.

However, the sun began to set, and I still didn’t see any end of the trail in sight. I had expected that by now, the trail would begin to widen again as I reached my own town. Surely, I would reach that point soon.

I shrugged to myself and kept moving on. There wasn’t anything else I could do, after all.

Then suddenly, I began to fear that perhaps I wasn’t walking in a straight line at all! I’d heard stories of people lost in the woods who kept walking in circles without realizing it. I looked around to see if anything seemed familiar.

At first glance, I didn’t recognize anything—no familiar trees or spots in the forest. But then I looked down at the trail and saw a footprint in the mud by a puddle on the path. I knelt down to look closer, and, unfortunately, it matched my own right shoe perfectly.

At this, I became rather alarmed. The day was rapidly coming to a close, and I had no idea how far I had yet to travel before I reached civilization.

I began using a new technique. I began walking in as straight a line as I could. Any time I came to a tree or other obstacle, I would carefully make my way around it, being certain only to make perfect right-angled turns. By doing this, I was fairly certain I could at least avoid turning entirely around, even if I couldn’t walk in a perfectly straight line.

However, after an hour or so, I began to recognize trees that I had already passed. I began to panic. How could this be happening, even though I was being so careful?

As much as I didn’t want to, I knew that I needed to move on. The sun was now nearly set, and I would have a long walk in the dark ahead of me.

This time, I tried even harder to walk in a straight line. I didn’t attempt to walk around most obstacles. I walked directly through the middle of several very sharp thornbushes. Any time I came to a tree, I took great care to walk exactly halfway around it before moving on.

By now, night had come, and the only light came from the moon and stars. Thankfully, the moon was nearly full, and there weren’t too many clouds to block its light, so I could still see where I was going.

However, to my utter horror, about halfway through the night, I found myself staring at the same footprint in the mud I had seen hours before.

At this, I nearly broke down. I had been walking for hours, going to great pains to avoid losing my way. My arms were bloody from walking through so many thorn bushes in the dark. My stomach was growling, and I was incredibly thirsty.

I collapsed onto the ground in despair, but I was too worried to be able to sleep. It’s difficult to describe exactly what it feels like to be completely lost in the middle of the woods at night.

Then, sitting on my knees in the mud, I had an idea. Perhaps if I tried to crawl through the woods, I would be able to keep a straighter course than by walking on only two feet. This thought gave me some hope, and I immediately began to crawl through the mud.

It was very slow, and I couldn’t see very far to be able to tell whether I was moving in a straight line. However, I kept at it. All I could think of was that I needed to get out of these woods, and I didn’t care what it would take if I could only find my way again.

Eventually, the sun began to rise behind me. That meant I was moving in the right direction!

For that entire day, I stayed on my hands and knees, crawling across the forest floor. At one point, I was so thirsty that I was willing to drink some stale water from a nearby puddle. On and on, I kept crawling.

My arms ached terribly, and my knees hurt, but I knew no other way than to keep on. My mind could think of nothing other than my goal. I became obsessed with keeping a straight track.

As night began to fall, I looked ahead to see what appeared to be a gap in the underbrush. I stood up for the first time in hours (feeling a terrible ache in my legs) and walked over to it. My heart sank as I saw the unmistakable tracks of a man crawling on his hands and knees.

I was now utterly hopeless. I felt as though I had been trapped in some kind of curse—that I was doomed to perpetual wanderings in the heart of this forest until my death.

I was so exhausted and sore that when I met with this utter failure, I collapsed on the ground and fell asleep.

When I finally awoke, it was completely dark. There must have been more clouds that night, for there was no sign of the moon.

I stood up and looked around. I was thirsty. Perhaps I could listen for a brook.

But as I looked, I saw a small light in the distance.

Without hesitating even for a moment, I began to run toward that light. I did not know where it came from, nor did I even know why I wanted to reach it. But I ran. With all the strength I had left, I ran.

I ran through many briars and thorns. I hit my head and arms into several trees. Twice, I tripped and landed flat on my face in the mud. But I didn’t care. All I knew was that I was going forward, and that was all that mattered.

Finally, I reached the source of the light. It was a lantern hanging on the front porch of a little cottage. I sat down on the porch floor and fell asleep.

The next morning, I awoke to see an elderly couple staring at me.

“Can we help you?” they asked.

“Tell me,” I said. “Where is the way to the town?”

The woman pointed towards a well-marked path that led away from the cottage door and began to say something.

Without waiting, I jumped to my feet and began to run down the path home.