The path looked the same but felt different. Each step seemed more laborious. The fallen trees, that had once been obstacles fun to face, were now just obstacles. And the sound of the creek no longer sounded like the promise of happiness.

His Pap had died and MeeMaw had moved to be closer to her sister. And though Dean was seventeen, his safe haven was no more than a few minutes on an empty porch. He made this journey every couple of weeks. And every time, he stood on the leaf littered porch and lost himself in memories of the good times.

He stepped onto the worn deck and looked through the overgrown thicket that his Pap used to cut back with monstrous clippers, laughing and cussing as he reclaimed the land. He could hardly see the creek now.

God, what he wouldn't give to see them again. But life didn't work like that. It was usually worst case scenario, he'd found. Might not be like that for others, but it was for Dean.

He righted the Adirondack chair and sat down for a spell. Like every other time, he would stay until the mosquitoes told him it was time to go.

Then Dean would walk back through the woods climbing over dead pines and stirring up dried brittle leaves, but for now, he was safe with his memories. And the trek, the mosquitoes, and the emptiness of his current life were worth it for these few minutes.

He leaned back and closed his eyes. The breeze blew bringing phantom smells and voices on it.

"... oh, Dean, it's so good to see you. Pap is out back. I'll start fixing dinner. I know you're hungry ..."

The breeze died with the first mosquito. It was time. He stood up, drawing in a deep breath. He stepped off the porch, careful not to look back. He couldn't face the deserted porch. If he kept walking, MeeMaw and Pap were still there. His safe haven was still real.

Seventeen might have seemed too old for pretend but it was all he had.