Walking

January 1st, 2021. Snow blanketed the neighborhood. The New Year’s Eve storm had turned from rain, to ice, to a thick white overnight. It now rested heavy on the park and its tree limbs. Houses were calmly burrowed, quietly entrenched in their snow banks.

I trudged out onto the untouched white surface. My boots descended through the soft top layer and down onto a packed layer beneath it, but never quite hit the ground.

A sharp pain came and went. Doctors’ appointments loomed. The worst anxieties ricocheted through my head.

I wanted to step out to feel the cold, to feel my body. I wanted to feel anything.

As I walked farther away from my parents’ house gradually I gained space. Maybe separation was what I wanted. Separation from the city, from the last five years, and from myself. I just wanted to find a place that felt a little bit more like home. On the walk I found myself reaching for a greater sense of power, of purpose. Or at the very least, short-term answers for the perplexing medical issues.

Music played in my earbuds. Its harmonies crashed through my memory and reminded me of a similar experience back up north…

I was driving alone then; the snow came down lightly, and only for a moment. I sped down the darkest roads on the blackest night. It was a much bigger trek but my intention was the same…