The Map I Drew
I have named twelve things. The ridge was first because it was the largest and because I could see it from everywhere and because it seemed wrong that something that size should go unnamed. I called it My Ridge. This is its name.
12
things named
51
days in the wild
1
thing buried
I knew every path. I made most of them up.
The Hollow
A depression between two root systems where the ground stays soft. I slept here twice. The second time I did not mean to. It is the kind of place that takes you in without asking, which I understand.
My Ridge
I named it after myself. Later I found out it already had a name. I kept mine. The other name was wrong anyway.
The Creek That Lied
Once about its depth. Once about its direction. I do not apologize to it when I cross it, which I think it knows.
The Unnamed Place
I have been here four times. Each time I mean to name it. Each time I leave without doing it. Some places resist naming.
The Place Where I Buried Something
I buried it on the third day when I was certain no one was watching. It is wrapped in the shirt I was wearing when I arrived here. The location on the map is deliberately wrong. I will know where it actually is.
I know what it is. I’m not ready.