They had been travelling for a long time.  During the first week snow began to filter through the evergreens that loomed above them.  It clung to the hood of the old Volkswagen, reminding her that ice might hide along the ragged shoulder.  Beside her Lucy whimpered and dipped her head closer to the heat vent.  When they reached Renfrew that day they stopped in the parking lot of a closed grocery store.  A single street lamp flickered a few meters away, sending shadows whispering across the concrete.  Lucy flew out of the passenger seat as her door was opened, eager to meet the forest once again.  She watched the dog go, alone now.   

Together they passed through a small lake town in the Volkswagen, then along the coast where fog clung to the highway.  Through the mountain the whispery clouds filled the small valley she had come to know so well, with telephone lines that stretched across it like a zip line.  They drove late at night when all the roads were abandoned and the blankets of fog were ghosts.  In familiar towns familiar stops were made in the darkness.  The days were grey during the winter.  

On a Saturday they came to stop at the end of the stretch of coast, before it became a city harbour.  During the day, she knew, it was a park.  They did not usually find themselves here.  Lucy’s shepherd expression worried itself, her feet shifting on the fabric of the passenger seat.  The car slid into a parking spot, alone in a sea of white lines and dim street lamps.  Before them rolled a grassy cliff, or many, so she remembered.  

Lucy trailed behind her as she came to the crooked wooden staircase, damp from the evening’s rain.  It was older than she remembered, but the small beach was the same.  Confident now, Lucy raced from her side to the sea.  She watched the dog’s shadow whisper across the wet rocks.  Finding her old spot, she sat, gazing up at the moon that still looked the same as it did then.  There was a time when she could stay on her beach for hours, staring up at the moon even through the harsh wind of the coastal winter.  She sighed, feeling as the old staircase must.  

The two climbed back into the old Volkswagen, strangely weary.  She started the car, watching as Lucy tipped her head once again towards the sputtering heat vent.  The headlights flickered on, casting jumping shadows as the car backed away in the darkness.  They continued on.  She wondered if they would reach Renfrew again by Monday, the lake town by Wednesday, this time around.  They had been travelling for a long time, she thought to herself regularly, but always kept driving.  

Find The Wooden Sky