We had moved into the cabin of our dreams. It had fresh air, no neighbors, and room for the kids and dog. That morning, my husband was unpacking and I was snapping a picture of the porch when our daughter pulled my hand and said, “The man in the woods waved again.” It was funny until the dog stood up and barked at the trees.
Duke didn’t growl very much. Old labs didn’t mind squirrels so much. He stood at the railing and peered into the dense woods. His ears were pulled back, and his fur stood up.
I bent down to see what he was looking at. The trees stayed there. The wind was shaking the leaves. I thought that deer or raccoons had been there. Rosie, on the other hand, held my knee and murmured, “He does it every morning, Mum.”
Six years old. Her imagination was highly busy most of the time. She still named her stuffed elephant her teacher. I stroked her back and said softly, “There’s no man in the woods, sweetheart.” “Just trees and shadows.”
She didn’t say anything at all. Duke sat next to her like a statue while she stared at the same location in the trees. The breeze might have made me shudder.
Malcolm, my husband, naively picked out a “Kitchen” box. He asked, “Where do you want this?”
I responded, “In the kitchen,” with a weak smile. Rosie thought she saw someone in the woods.
He responded, “Most likely a hiker.” “Don’t forget that we’re near a trail.”
It was true. A real estate agent stated it had some positive things about it. I don’t know why Rosie’s gaze made me nauseous.
Things had settled down around lunchtime. I was taking the dishes out of the box, Malcolm was adjusting the satellite dish, and the kids were playing tag outside. Duke stayed outside. He looked at the woods.
I asked Malcolm if we should tell someone what we observed after the kids went to bed.
“Report what?” Do you want us to call the police about a man waving from the woods? Do you know how many people walk by here? If anything, wave back.
He was right. It made me feel bad in some manner. Rosie didn’t say anything the next morning, but I saw her wave to the trees from the porch at 7:30.
I ran away. “Rosie! Come in; it’s cold!”
She stayed still. Keep waving. I looked where she was staring, but I couldn’t see anything. I got down on my knees. Why are you doing this, dear?
“He waved first,” she remarked. “Every day since we got here.” He smiles.
That made my skin crawl. It was our third day here. Did she meet someone every morning?
I gently led her inside. I didn’t want to terrify her, but the thought that she thought a stranger waved at her every day made me uneasy.
That afternoon, I walked the trail alone. Duke followed me, sniffing the air and wagging his tail every now and again. Malcolm would just roll his eyes if I told him.
An old thermos was dangling from a tree limb ten minutes into the woods. The broken piece was hanging there, as if someone had planned to leave it there.
People lower down made a rustic wooden bench that was covered with moss. A worn flannel jacket was on the bench. There was no one around. It seemed like someone was watching everything.
That night, I told Malcolm what I had seen. Shrugging. Maybe a location for tired hikers to rest. People often discard old hiking gear in the woods.
I wasn’t sure. Not after Rosie started drawing.
She pushed a piece of paper across the table the next morning while she ate toast. The man wore a hat and was tall and skinny. He waved from the edge of the woods. He didn’t have any eyes on his face, just a mouth.
“This is him!” she cried.
Malcolm raised one eyebrow. “That’s good.”
Rosie shakes her head. He is nice. He isn’t saying anything. But he does pay attention.
I tried to ignore it, but it just kept troubling me. Rosie always drew pictures of kitties and rainbows. Not people. Not strange, faceless ones, that’s for sure.
I couldn’t deny how I felt on the fifth day. I went to the library in the little town to discover whether anyone had talked about the place being haunted. I didn’t believe in ghosts, but I wanted to know why.
I chatted to Edna, who has lived here her whole life. I informed her where our cabin was, and her face altered.
“That would be pretty close to Millerswood, right?” She inquired.
“Just east of it,” I responded.
Slowly, she nodded. It was a long time ago that Samuel Carver lived. He lived alone in the woods. People thought he was weird. He waved to kids who were passing by. Didn’t say much. But he was nice. He once saved a little kid from drowning in a brook.
I inquired, “What happened to him?”
Died because it was too cold one winter. I noticed him close to the path. He was sitting up straight, like he had just woken up. Poor thing.
It gave me the chills. Can anyone see him now?
Edna shrugged. People say their kids do. They think he only waves to people who are sad or need help.
I put Rosie down at home. “Darling, why are you waving at the man in the woods?”
She gave me a look like there was a storm coming. He looks lonely. He probably misses someone.
I couldn’t sleep that night because I was thinking about what Edna said. Rosie could have noticed something. It could have been a recollection or an experience instead of a ghost. Kids notice things that we don’t.
Rosie and I watched the sun rise from the porch the next morning. She waved, like she was supposed to. There was a calm Duke sitting next to us. Followed her look. I saw him at first.
A man who passed out in the morning fog near the woods. I felt warm when he raised his hand, even though I couldn’t see his face.
I was not scared. I felt at ease. I thought I saw someone watching us.
Rosie didn’t talk about him again after that. But she waved every day. Duke never roared again.
Months passed. We became acclimated to living in a cabin. While Malcolm was planting a garden, I started painting again. I saw a faded picture behind a beam once while I was cleaning the attic. Next to a younger Edna was a man with a plaid shirt.
Took it to town and showed it to her.
“That’s Samuel,” she whispered softly as she held the picture. “I haven’t seen this in a long time.”
I told her to keep it, but she replied no. “No, sweetie. Keep it. It seems like he is keeping an eye on your child.
I put the picture in Rosie’s room that night. She grinned at it.
“That’s him,” she remarked in a soft voice. “He’s not as sad.”
I never told anyone. Not able to sense it.
Rosie, who is now a teenager, said something that made me cry years later when we went back to the city for education and employment.
She said, “Mom, I think he was my friend.” I was alone before I learned how to talk. I stopped being pals with my former friends when I moved. He stood there and made me feel better.
Hugged her fiercely. That’s probably why he waved.
People sometimes leave more than simply stories behind. They leave behind kindness, peace, and memories. Not everything needs to be terrifying. There are some things. There are people in our lives who are nice and patient.
I believe that kids are sometimes more important than adults in the world. This could be why kids see things that adults don’t always see.
If a child waves at something you can’t see, don’t explain it. Someone might be waving back.
