Excerpt: The Man in Me

(From Chapter 7)

I made it across the street, and entered the woods. It was like stepping into another world. A world, at least to my young eyes, untamed. A narrow path had been beaten and furrowed where decades of neighborhood kids had explored, rode their bikes, and played tag. The world dimmed beneath the canopy of trees, but the sunlight painted flecks of its glory on the leaves of trees and danced on the fluttering wings of dragonflies. It smelled of rainwater and decaying dead leaves on the ground and blooming wild flower and little red berries we were told not to eat. We were also told not to enter the woods, but we didn't listen.
The pain eased a little. So I picked up my pace. I heard squirrels and other critters scurry off the path in front of me. When “Stick” Galilee and I first explored the woods, these sounds scared me. I was sure that they came from much dangerous creatures than squirrels and birds and raccoons. Now, I welcomed their noises. The woods in silence were much more troublesome.
I reached the ditch much quicker than I expected. It seemed to have widened since I'd last seen it. It's dark water looked like coffee faded to the color of tea at the banks. A greenish foam floated on top clinging to drifting tree limbs and Styrofoam fast food cartons. It was possible that the ditch could be forded simply by wading across, but none of us kids ever tried it. Nobody knew how deep it was or what lurked beneath it's dark and nasty surface.