The first thing I understand is that I am a woman. The second, that I am alone. I know this before my eyes open and before I know that I am ignorant of all else. As my thoughts escape a state of delicious slumber, I force myself to fight the grogginess in my mind, whose lure to obscurity does not seem right. But at the moment when I think I will wake, a dark comfort pulls me back under. We fight continuously, slumber and I, and I don’t know how long it lasts. Victory could be easy if I move. There will be no going back if I could register something outside of my mind. Yet how tempting the peaceful, undisturbed back of my mind seems. How easy…

“No,” I whisper.

The hushed sound, while being indistinct, is just enough. I open my eyes, the next step. A foggy world greets me. I can’t grasp what I see, and the more I try, the thicker the fog grows. Despairing, I relax my mind and focus on a single leaf.

Ah, a leaf. So, this much I recognize. Apparently, trying to see the whole world at once is too daunting a task, so I set about collecting the details unattached. Now that I have seen a leaf I notice many more surrounding me. Surrounding my vision, at least.

It would be simple to stare at the leaves all afternoon. But some unknown inertia propels me to the next task. I connect the leaves to branches. Once I establish that each leaf connects to its branch, I try to understand trees. This takes longer.

I repeat this whole process for clarity. Now, I can see green and bark and shades. Shades, yes, and sunlight. The light is welcoming and familiar. I close my eyes to enjoy it, but only for a moment so lethargy can not capture me again.

All these discoveries are as if I am being born into the world again to reunite with old friends.

Nearby, an obnoxious rumble echoes against all my trees. Naturally, my head rolls to face the sound and sees nothing. But now, thankfully, I have rediscovered movement. Where are my hands? I flex my fingers and release a clump of dirt that I must have been clutching in my sleep.

Sleep? Why have I been asleep? Faintly, I search for the answer, and I sense it lying in a corner of my thoughts. As I reach to open that drawer, I feel an insect crawl cross my thumb. Distracted, I lift my hand to my face and ponder it for awhile. Is this truly my hand? Does this belong to me? I lift the other. At least they match, so surely they have the same owner.

Claiming them, I slowly stir myself into a sitting position. Again, fog covers everything, and the world swims. I catch my head with my hands to still the painful motion.

I’m not sure how long I sit like this. Perhaps I'm falling asleep again. All that I can tell is that another blast of noise jerks me from my stillness. I look to the sound again and can not spot its owner.

Alone, yes, still alone. Is this a good thing? Am I supposed to be alone? An awful panic settles in my stomach, and I feel that this loneliness shouldn’t be. It must end.

I study the light, but now its familiarity isn’t enough anymore. Something is missing, and I feel that I will understand more elsewhere. Get up. I must move. But it could be dangerous. Just sitting up in itself wearies me. Perhaps, I should lay back down and rest before I move again. No. This place can offer me nothing else. I must move.

How do you start to stand when all you’ve known is how to sit?

I lean towards the damp soil before me and prop my hands against a fallen branch. My legs know the rest and straighten out beneath me. Now for my head. Wincing beforehand, I arch back and wait for a spell of dizziness to knock me back to the ground. Surprisingly, nothing happens. I ferl the instinct to thank something for this, but no one is around. Still, I mentally smile in gratitude at the sunlight on my head.

Now, all the trees that I have gladly associated with leaves and branches are traitors who taunt me with rest and support, yet I know the “slight spell” they offer would turn into apathetic hours of studying the leaves again or maybe the ground this time. I need to keep going.

However, I still have not begun. One foot. One foot is all I need. If I move one, then other will follow and follow until I’ve developed a steady speed. But just as with sleep, this state of rest has a tight, enticing grip.

And what reason have I to move? What will I really gain from it? Why am I so sure there is more out there than the trees and the branches and the leaves above and below me? Perhaps I should satisfy myself with this and adjust.

Leaves on bark.
Bark on branches.
Branches on trees.
Leaves and bark and branches and trees.
Forever.

The idea is almost suffocating, but it pushes me into a run. I almost stumble at the onset, but I fall against a tree and propel off it. There is no direction, only forward and away in a search of a world more than this collection of towering, unfriendly trees. I shove away from one only to fall into the arms of another and another. Constantly, shoving and catching. Constantly, bark on my hand or coming off with my hand and am I going in circles? Am I actually moving forward or tossing myself between the same trees? Maybe this will be forever, and now I miss my apathy.

The trees end.

I could rejoiced at this and again thank the light, but I fall. The landing is soft, and this startles me. Even after I hit the ground, my head spins as if I am still running, but this is the only inconvenience. All I see is green, unlike the orange and brown of leaves and trees. What is this soft green?

Grass. I sink into it and beg for sleep to take me back.

Unfortunately, as I try to forget all I know, I register sounds all around me that I haven’t noticed before. They are unfamiliar. I keep my head in the grass and focus on the noises, but no words or names or patterns come.

So, I lift my head and torso until I'm on my knees, and still, I cannot understand what I see. It's motion, perpetual motion. The moment I think I see something specific move it's gone, and I am back to a blur of motion. Often the chaos reaches out to me and blows hair (I have hair?) about my face. My body quakes in response.

This is no better than the trees, and the chaos seemd even lonelier. I close my eyes and remember tears just as they start falling.

“Miss? Miss? Miss?”

In all the jargon of disconnected commotion, I eventually notice this sound repeating with an occasional, “Ma’am!”

I don’t tell my eyes to open, but they don’t seem to wait. There is a man approaching me cautiously.

My head returns to the grass, and I retreat to a world of black.