PROLOGUE: the boy from Walden

The spring sun acted as a sentinel over the park where we sat; cherry blossoms bloomed solely for him. As the petals esoterically whispered secrets in pink, I found it hard to ignore the reverie we found ourselves in. We found shade and solace in the tree's umbra that invited us to stay passed nightfall.

"What are you doing?" He turned suddenly to look at me who studiously watched passersby. I smiled up at him, "I'm an avid people-watcher".

"Of course", he laughed dismissively.

"This is me being at one with nature!" I joked, making reference to his love of the outdoors that he'd mentioned to me when we first met. Garrett was a child of the trees, and I affectionately referred to him thusly. He would rather be caught up amidst the flora and fauna than be anywhere else, and I admired that quality in him. He had a Thoreau-like need for simplicity and the gentle order that could only be found in nature. More than anything, I loved the look he got on his face when he was content in nature. It started as a bewildered awe, as his eyes widened every time, as if he were a child once more. Then a small smile would touch his lips as he embraced all the sights: the green and yellow sounds of the bees buzzing, the loud clamor of the vibrant grass against his skin, and most of all, the willows- his favorite. I found myself wanting to be more like him or be with him. Either one would be fine.

"You should . . .try it sometime" I said realizing that I'd been staring. He looked over at me, with his warm brown eyes lingering like honey. " What I do. . " I turned from his gaze, " is I try to get inside people's heads."

He looked puzzled. " I like to try and guess or imagine where a person is going or what's in their head as they're walking. I used to try and decipher life stories with my dad when we used to drop my brother off at school. I feel like it makes me calm, makes me less judgmental if I try to think from the perspective of others." He nodded his head, and looked pensively at the rickety wooden bench we sat on.

"You know, I used to be angry . . .just angry all the time. When people would nudge me in the hallways or bump me or take a seat on the train I would get pissed and react quicker than I should have. Without thinking. And then I started writing, and my vision broadened, like, ridiculously. I started to. . .to understand things", I smiled at my next recollection. "And then!" I laughed," I had this amazing English teacher who thought he was teaching psychology. He was ancient, and always made dirty jokes and. . . Whatever. So he taught us," Garrett scooted closer and angled his shoulders towards me. I shivered at the new nearness and became noticeably frazzled at it.

"He taught us what he referred to as 'psychology 101', which is," I raised my hands in preparation for the oncoming wave of gesticulation that I knew I couldn't do without, " between stimulus and response, there's a void. That void is small, which is why we have our most innate, erratic, carnal reactions. But if we create enough space between that void, we can actually change the way we react to things. We can choose how we feel, and how we handle situations for any given moment. And that", my eyes flicked quickly to his lips then back up to his eyes, " that's what you have to do." I patted his hand.

He laughed and looked down. "So. . You want me . . .", he began, letting the phrase sit between us as if it had no end.

". .To people watch?"

We broke out in laughter. " I want you. . ." I paused ironically and let it sink in. Truer words were never spoken. "I want you to change your attitude . . .so you see this 'break' differently. You don't have to hate her."

He doubled over in laughter. "What is so funny, Nature Boy?"

"I don't hate her. . I just . . ."

The air around us became stagnant as he stood. His fingers glided across my bare arm as he quoted Nat King Cole. His hand fell to mine before he turned on his heel and walked away.

" I don't hate her," he turned his head, " I've just begun to see things differently."