Walks

Walks

It’s a beautiful night and I don’t know where to go.

You know the ones. Those rare moments between responsibilities, where you have nothing to do and you could do nothing, but that would not do at all. Where the summer sun is lazy in the sky, hanging around and scuffing its toes on the ground because it’s reluctant to leave. Every blade of grass is still with potential and vibrating with stillness.

I wander through the campus. It’s a slow, “I’ve got nowhere to be” walk, not the kind we usually find ourselves doing – the “must clock-in at 8:30” or “Gotta get to the bank before it closes.”

It’s a birdsong walk, a sunshine on your skin, lizards scampering across the concrete, waiting for tomorrow and hoping it never comes walk.

I pause and tilt my head in the breeze, listening to the silence. It’s full of sticky sweet melodies, so round and full and potent I can feel it through my bones. I breathe in deep and I think I can smell the sky, and it smells like stars.

The few people that pass around me are doing the “I’ve got to be somewhere” walks. The boy with the cowlick has to be home to get ready for a first date. The woman with the headphones in has to make it to the gym and the man with the bald spot has to pick his son up from soccer practice.

I sit down and lie on my stomach in the warm cooling grass and let the ants crawl on my legs because life is just one big series of different walks and sometimes on a free long summer night I just want to run away, or go nowhere at all.

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