The Path That Waited for Me

I walked alone, once—
not because I lacked love,
but because I had not yet learned
the sound of my own steps.

There were no maps,
only wind in the trees
and the press of footprints
too old to follow.

I carried all I thought I needed:
the ache of past years,
a rusted kind of pride,
and questions folded like paper cranes
I never dared to open.

But the forest didn't ask for answers.
It asked for presence.
The stones beneath my feet
taught me weight.
The silence showed me
how to listen without needing to speak.

And in that long, slow wandering—
where no hand held mine,
no voice called me home—
I found myself turning
to my own breath for company.

When I returned,
I was no longer searching.
I saw her—my wife—
not as a missing half,
but as a mirror
that did not distort me.

Love, real love,
came not from escape,
but from returning whole.

© Susie Stiles-Wolf