These woods represented everything good about growing up. In spite of him losing his parents and his less-than-stellar academic life and his disappointing love life, these woods were always here for him. They offered a nonjudgmental, comforting embrace he could rely on.
Mac stood, brushed the dirt from the seat of his pants, and started back toward the path. He’d made a decision.
* * * *
Aunt Virginia was to pick him up a little after nine for the wake. Mac spent the time getting ready, showering, shaving, and simply making himself presentable for the many friends and relatives who would come to call. He felt a little bad that he didn’t have a suit to wear—he didn’t own one—but knew Gram wouldn’t have been upset with him in his khakis, button-down blue Oxford shirt, and blue-and-navy bow tie.