Finally, after nearly three hours in the car, she arrived. A wave of excitement washed over her as she turned right into the entrance of the park and paid the three dollar admission fee. The phrase “worth the price of admission” came to her mind but then so did “you get what you pay for” and she hoped for the former more than the latter. As soon as she found a place to park, she put Milo on the leash and together they made a B-line to the restrooms. She had been holding it since Crawfordsville and it was getting painful. Finally, after that sweet release she was able to look at the program. She unfolded and opened it up and it read: Turkey Run State Park in bold brown letters, all caps, and underlined at the top. She wasn’t interested in finding a specific trail to walk, she just wanted to get started - the map she would use to navigate out of the park. She found her location on the map and made a mental note of it.

“Good enough” she said to herself aloud.

Then she and Milo turned towards the trailhead and began.

The day was extraordinarily beautiful. What a perfect day to get away and do this, she thought. There was a clear, blue sky, a light breeze, and newly leaved trees and blossoms all around. She looked at her watch and saw that it was a pleasant 73 degrees, high of 78. Another wave of excitement had come and this time it brought a friend: a feeling of perfection. Her attention shifted briefly to what she could hear. Birds chirping, people talking among themselves, the subtle roar of the breeze through the trees. Then she could smell the clean, earthy air. She took a giant breath in and let it go, along with it the remainder of whatever stress there was. Sweet freedom.

A few of the trails, including the one she was one, collected into one downhill path that reached towards steps made of rock. As she approached she could see a suspension bridge stretched over a river. On the other side were majestic rock formations lining the river where the bridge terminated. As she and Milo crossed the wobbly bridge, she watched people in kayaks and tubes floating casually beneath her. There were people nodding and saying, “hi” as they passed her on the bridge, occasionally including Milo in thir greetings. They both reached the end of the bridge where the trail markers indicated that a left-hand turn would take them to Rocky Hollow. Milo, who had already turned left and was ahead by a few feet due to a long leash, stood waiting with an attentive face that only pugs can give. It was as if he was saying, “Are you coming, mommy?” “Yes, boo boo, I’m coming.”

Rocky Hollow cool and damp and the Punch Bowl cold and wet. The Ice Box, Bear Hollow, and Falls Canyon, all spectacular and inspiring. She noticed that the day had whizzed by, and yet, full of beauty and experiences no screen could provide. She was tired but content. She and Milo found their way back to the suspension bridge and back across Sugar Creek. Up the hill where the trails splayed out like an alluvial fan and finally back to her car. All she had to do was drive to the hotel that was a mere half-hour away, take a shower, order a pizza, and cuddle up with Milo and a good book then the day would be complete.

The End