Solitary Walks

I don't quite recall what it was that got me so geeked up to write about my most enjoyable walks, but I'm going to divulge nonetheless.

I remember walking down the main pedestrian thoroughfare in Denver last July the day after the movie theater shooting.  The televisions were all turned to news of the tragedy and many people were glued to the sets.  I felt so aloof and apart from society.  I didn't know what my place was.  I was getting ready to fly back to Michigan, I had been dumped and rebuffed, I was alone, and I felt...different.  Like I was the only one feeling this.  I was staring incredulously at the buildings and people and traffic.  My gaze was never fixed on anything for longer than a few seconds.  I was nearly overwhelmed.  I gave a hamburger to a man asking for change.  I missed my bus.  I bought a big Coke.  The things we remember.

I was walking down the dirt path in Tangitatu, Kenya.  Actually I was half-running, but was pretty out of shape so I threw in a bunch of walking.  I was a few miles away from my camp.  The sun was beating down.  Some shepherds were off tending the sheep and goats.  I was completely out of breath and was angry at the pain.  I was angry at Africa.  My dream of a 3-month exploration session had devolved and became extinct. I felt, for the most part, misunderstood.  But I wasn't.

I was walking around Rapid City.  There were statues of presidents.  It was dark and a bit chilly.  I looked haggard.  It'd been a week since my last shower, and 7 weeks since my last shave.  I was stopping at every street corner and looking at the placards.  Some people looked at me and some didn't.  I looked at most.  I tried to at least.

I was walking at Bryce Canyon.  The sky was pristine blue.  The ground was rust red.  The trail was nearly devoid of people, even though it was the height of summer.  I was newly employed but also newly single.  It was an interesting dichotomy.  I spent my journey ranking the individual splendors of the all the national parks.  I watched the horseriders as they galloped past.  I took some pictures and tried to make myself feel infinite, like had happened so many times before when I'd rejoiced in nature.  It didn't happen.

I was walking in the parking lot at Madison.  I was the last one out.  My car was the only one still parked.  It was warm.  It was still light.  Winter had finally been vanquished.  I smiled.  I didn't share that smile with anyone, but it was meaningful nevertheless.  My heart was lightened.  I was happy.