The Forgotten Home

I had loved the woods for as long as I could remember. Even as a child, I would often wander off into the forest against my mother’s wishes until she rushed in yelling to drag me back. The deep sea of trees, and the stillness surrounding it, bore an allure unlike any other. I would often visit the remnants of a forgotten village and wonder about the memories of the people who once resided there.

Now, at the age of thirty, I was delving deeper into the forest’s wonder, exploring further than I ever had when I was young. It was the only thing that brought me comfort as my days slowly decayed with sickness. Similar to my mother, who died at the same age, I, too, was nearing the end of my life. Soon, I was also to be no different than those whose time had passed in that abandoned place.

One day, I decided to leave my home and take refuge in the ruins within the forest. My body was weakening by the day and I couldn’t bear to see the husk of who I once was whenever I looked in the mirror. And so, I left without a second thought. I made one of the old houses my own and lived off the various berries, vegetables, and mushrooms that were around me.

Living there once again brought me joy I had not felt in a lifetime. I reminisced how I would often leave the village and wander off into the woods looking for berries and vegetables as a child. How I would stumble upon caves and explore—

Was I remembering wrong? I only ever found the ruins of the village, not caves. Perhaps my memory was failing me faster than I had imagined. Days seemed to meld into weeks, and time was all but a haze. One day, however, I stumbled across something peculiar: someone had left a diary at the front door. I wondered who could have left it there. No one knew I was in the woods, and I had no living relatives…

Anita. She would often venture off into the woods, no matter how much I told her not to. She always wanted to see the hometown my family and I had to abandon when I was just a child. No, that was not right. Was I imagining things?

I opened the diary. When my eyes started racing through its contents, the memories I had long forgotten began to flow back into the streams of my mind. I was not the one who loved seeing this place; it was my daughter, Anita. This place was once my home. How could I have forgotten?

“Mom…” I suddenly found Anita walking towards me.

“Anita?” She was all grown up. I finally remembered…

“Mom, you need to move on. It has been twenty years.”

She was right. I had held on to this world for far too long.

“You started appearing several times at my house over the past two weeks. I had no idea you were still around.” Tears were streaming down her face.

I suddenly began to feel the true weightlessness of my body; the warmth I thought I had felt for so long soon disappeared into the emptiness around me. “Anita, I’m so sorry. All this time, I…”

“It’s alright, Mom. You didn’t know.” She smiled through her tears.

I was finally ready to move on. Much like the village around me, I belonged to a time that was long forgotten. I bade goodbye to Anita and released my grip on the place I once called home.