He walked the 1,428 steps from the trailhead to the crest of the hill
Slowly, casually
There was no rush, and even if there was
He didn't believe he could bear to rush
The bench, which was in reality a flat boulder with a rectangular shape
Wasn't going anywhere
The crest of the hill allowed one a spectacular view of the area
For miles in all directions
In the morning one could sit and watch the sunrise in the east
And in the evenings watch the sunset to the west
The flat boulder was large enough for four people
To sit together comfortably
Though he had never sat there with anyone other than her
When they would sit and talk for hours
She had considered the bench their
Ringside seat to the world
And a place of sanctuary, of retreat
Where they could hide together in plain sight
At least once a week, usually late Wednesdays, after noon
When it was rare for anyone else to be there
They walked the 1,428 steps together
Sometimes enjoying the tranquility of silence
Sometimes chattering like jays
Always reveling in one another's company
Now, as he approached the boulder alone
He looked off into the distance
Through misty eyes he searched out familiar landmarks
Johnson's creek flowing south the Solomon range to the east
The Dominion school grounds north and the Fuller bridge west
Unconsciously he ran his hands through his hair
As he recalled the times they tried to find their home
Realizing that the house he was searching for
Was no longer their home
Only his
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