No One Travels Alone: Steven

"Have a seat." Steven says. "We should pray here."

"What do you pray for?" I asked.

"I pray that I might grow roots here."

I found a mildly comfortable tree root to sit against, but got distracted by the mushy earth around it.

"Be careful," Steven warned, "that's someone's roots there." He laughed.

Steven is from Belgium. If they still had hippies, he would be one. Steven found his house on Google Earth last night and saw his town from the air for the first time. He arrived in the United States a little while back on the East Coast. Then he hitchhiked across Canada before descending into Seattle. I met him because we are staying with the same people.

"Do you want a beer?" Steven asks swinging his arm my direction.

"It's nine o'clock in the morning."

"Oh. Ok."

I told Steven that I planned to come out to Snoqualmie Falls today. "Can I come?" he asked. So I drove while he crocheted and we both listened to Regina Spektor.

Steven makes hats. It's a new skill he learned in Victoria. He told me that he left many good friends in Victoria. He was only there a few days. He must make friends quickly--he's fairly disarming. I think it's the accent. He speaks like he lives: slowly and with distinction--and always with a Belgian twist.

"I loved a girl there," he told me, not referring to sex. "I loved several. It's okay to love people you know. And when you do, you find that you love each of them differently. And those loves add something to your life to make something quite beautiful. ...I think people don't love enough."

We were on our way back up from the falls basin when Steven wandered off the path without warning.

"It's beautiful," he said. Then after a moment, asked, "Where are you going next?"

"I don't know. I suppose back to Seattle."

"Why are you in such a hurry? Why not sit here in nature and relax a while?"

After a pensive pause, I agreed. We walked further off the path into a glen. I find a fallen tree to sit on and Steven lays down on a muddy hillside. The occassional tourist that walks by stops to ask if he's ok. He smirks every time.

"Dude, are you alright?" She was right next to him and her volume didn't match the serenity of the scene.

"Yeah," he replies very quietly.

"What are you doing?" a little softer this time.

"I'm watching the trees."

"What do you see up there?" and the woman lays down in the dirt next to him, her friend frozen and staring a few feet away. After a short moment, the woman says, "He knows what's going on! This guy understands what it's all about!" She speaks with mock religious conviction before standing up and walking away, laughing.