A Morning Walk

Originally posted March 3, 2006

I haven't done nearly enough descriptive writing lately, so I need to flex my muscles. I decided I'd do a write-up of my walk to work this morning.
~~~~~~~

One foot in front of the other, as on every morning, I wander ever closer to the empty chair that awaits me in a room full of lost time.

The brisk air elbows me, teasing me with a little song that goes something like who knows what today brings? who knows what today brings? I stare at the pavement that blinds me with the wet glare of cold, February rains -- rains that cry on us for being rejected in a climate too warm to oblige their aspirations of becoming snow.

Who knows what today brings?

The sky is half full of clouds spun in a blender, shrouding the sun in a gray gauze that allows a few meager rays to warm the earth below, hinting at an innocence of morning that lasts only until the sun becomes too familiar for the day to hold at bay. Two hawks wheel and chase each other above the rooftop of a vacant building, playing a game that seems too early to play, but too inappropriate to play at any other time. I watch them for a minute, squinting against what little blue lingers in the sky, wondering what the day would hold.

I cross through the Safeway parking lot, musing on how many people stop there each day to fulfill the tasks that sustain their lives. Beads of water pool on oil stains, and I contemplate the odd juxtaposition of a ratty worker trimming dead winter trees on a ladder while a well-groomed man in a crisp suit waits next to his new Honda. Nearby, an old, faded red Buick pulls out, and for a minute, I'm transported back to another time...a time when the faded red Buick was new, and surrounded by others like it. The worker stops trimming to watch me walk by, and I continue down the sidewalk, blinded by yet more sparkling pavement and enduring the breeze's taunting, relentless song.

Who knows what today brings?

The sun conquers its gauzy oppressor and trumpets its victory, reveling in its success and forcing me to entertain, if even for one small moment, that today might be different...today might be full of surprises or treasures or excitement. Who knows? Who knows what today brings? And I hold that innocence close to me, wanting to keep it hidden in my pocket so that nothing or no one can disprove it. I shelter it, knowing that sunlight will cleanse it and set it free. Still I walk, one foot in front of the other -- as on every morning -- nodding at passers-by, spinning the wheels in my head and smiling at the potential the sky holds.

The biting breeze keeps up its chant, swirling around me even as I grow warm from walking. The coolness fails to pierce me as I wait for the light to change. Another block, another few steps, another day at the office. It is a day like any other day, but colored with the hope of many days ahead, with the optimism of lighthearted souls who do nothing but take in the outdoors while resigning to giving up their days to indoor demons.

The empty chair awaits. I leave behind the language of the morning, letting the day and hours ahead greet me in their own way. I listen, but the song is different. I sing along, but I don't know the answer. I study it, but it doesn't change. The innocence slips from my grasp.

Who knows what tomorrow brings?