Saturday, May 23, 2015
It has taken me almost two years to go for a walk in my neighbourhood. When I lived by the lake, I would go for walks on my own regularly. I would think and dream, and feel the breezes waterside. I was introspective back then, deeply introspective, though I was a pretty lost girl I'd say.
Then I moved. And I sort of hibernated in my new space for a time: I just hadn't that inclination to stroll the streets and smell the air and look up at the trees. My backyard, mind you, is a glorious oasis of many a flower and foliage.
Today however I went for a walk. It's an uncomfortable feeling of exposure: here I am, world, I'm coming out for a walk. I had to somewhat force myself to put my shoes on.
The air was chilly, but the sun made it mild. It was windy, and bright, and everything was alive. I walked passed the most bloomed tree I've seen, exploding with pink bursts, showering them on the grass below. I swept past white picket fences, small homes from 50 years ago lining the sidewalk-less streets, and oak trees as tall as the sky.
It was lovely and liberating.