When the weather is like this, taking even the most familiar of walks with faithful companions feels ominous. Every house looms, filled maybe with watchers, maybe with no one, silent and lurking. Each leaf that blows past startles, every sound the wind makes in the trees beckons, as my breath fights to take shape in the moist air.
This very walk, these very streets, so open and friendly with the sun, that once embraced my presence, that made me feel safe and understood, now stretch out menacingly, luring me farther along. I could turn back, return to the safety of my home, but today not even that breeds comfort. Cold and lonely, I seek solace in the fresh air.
I trudge along, pulling when necessary, sensing the apprehension of my furry friends, or maybe it’s just their incessant curiosity. We see no others, no one else braving the preview of the coming months. I try to drown the emptiness with my music, melodic beats penetrating nature’s own, though only I can hear it.
I’m taken back to earlier days, filled with laughter, wonder and love. When everything was as I knew it, familiar and easy, comfortable and right. These thoughts of my past crawl in and curl up in my mind, lying down to rest for a while. When they retreat, their impressions remain, like footprints in the sand. I’ll never shake them, and I never want to.