Many people find they’re at their bravest, or perhaps their most cowardly, when they are with others. Personalities are emphasized and faults highlighted by the gaze of people you probably want to respect you. Sometimes, that moment comes when you’re utterly alone.

IT WAS October. Not this October, but one about five years past. My family gathered in my grandfather’s woods for the Parade of Stands, a yearly event we made up for fun. THIS IS CONFUSING. MORE EXPLANATION OF THE EVENT, MAYBE?The breeze was chilly, and everyone was wearing dark, heavy coats. I LOVED these woods, and we’d been romping around in them for nearly decades. Today, once the festivities were almost halfway through, I asked my mother if I could take a walk. Just a regular walk through the brightly colored leaves and restless quiet of the forest. She said yes. As it turned out, it wouldn’t be just a walk. I set off and follow the old rutted paths, taking a few deer trails I thought looked interesting, getting deeper into the woods. I could hear gunfire in the distance (I DELETED A COMMA HERE) from hunters practicing on other properties,(ALSO HERE) and my aunts and uncles playing sharpshooting games. I felt at home in the whispers of bright paper leaves. I even saw some deer, watching them for a minute before they caught my scent and bounded gracefully away. I couldn’t tell, but the sun had begun to set. The light level was dropping fast, and when I finally looked up, I realized I was utterly lost. This was a time before every ten year old had a cell phone, and I could only think of signaling a helicopter with reflective sheets. Too bad I didn’t have any reflective sheets. Or a helicopter looking for me. SENTENCE FRAGMENT. I tried to retrace my footsteps, following my path back through the deer glen AND past a rusted washing tub(I TOOK COMMAS OUT) to a trail marked with an R. The paths on our property weren’t marked. Where in the proverbial Hundred Acre Wood was I? I decided having a road was better than a bunch of broken sticks and hoof marks, so I walked down the trail. It was almost night. I felt pretty sorry for myself, for going off by myself, for not sticking to places I knew, for getting my silly self lost. But, I realized as the trail branched, it could be way worse. I managed to buck up my spirits by imagining worse scenarios. Maybe a flood. Or a thunderstorm. (MORE FRAGMENTS, AND IT USED TO BE 'A THUNDERSTORMS' B/F I FIXED IT) Don’t ask me how, BUT  it worked (AWKWARD SENTENC. By the time I stopped being so gloomy, I found a yellow truck parked along the path. That was my grandfather’s truck! I ran towards it and realized I recognized everything. The maples we used for sap gathering, the chokeberry tree stand nearby. I could make it back alive now. By not letting myself give in to self-pity, I had carried on long enough to survive. My mom was glad to have me back, and I was ready to get to sleep (GLAD SEEMS LIKE NOT A STRONG ENOUGH WORD. )Walking through the woods until I found a familiar place might not HAVE BEEN true courage, but not letting MYself down when I FELT lost has to count for something.