One of my favorite parts of my rest has been going on long walks through the old neighborhoods just a couple blocks away from my apartment. These neighborhoods are only a few decades old, of course, since something being “old” is very different in most modern US cities than in most other places in the world, but that means they all have one of my favorite features of older US neighborhoods. Their streets make very little sense. They’re full of curves, winding bends, long lanes with no outlets, and massive old trees. It makes it very easy to get somewhat lost as you walk, since you don’t always find a cross street where you expect one and either have to walk on in hopes of finding an outlet or connection further down the line, or turn around and retrace your steps. It’s an enjoyable way to spend an hour or two on a nice, windy afternoon in the fall.
Continue readingForest
Wanderlust
James heaved himself out of his car and staggered to the trunk. He looked at everything he owned scattered on the forest floor for a moment before gathering up his backpack, his messenger bag, and whatever else he could fit into his already stuffed bags.
He grabbed a few bottles of water and wrapped his blanket around his shoulders. Once his messenger bag had been shifted so it hung under his backpack, he looked around the woods one last time before starting off at a forty-five degree angle from the direction his car had been going.
He managed to walk for about fifteen minutes before he got light-headed and had to sit. He let himself take five minutes to rest, drink some water, and make sure he wasn’t losing too much blood. Once his five minutes were up, he carried on.
When the sun had set, he’d crossed half a dozen roads, changed directions ten times, and taken a short nap hidden under a pile of leaves. After a brief dig through his backpack, he pulled out his headlamp and carried on, stopping only once to hide his light when he saw a line of flashlights bobbing in the distance.
The next morning came late, hidden behind a light rain, but he still walked until his legs refused to carry him any further. A short rest got him back on his feet and then his feet got him to a dry spot to set up camp. As he ate a protein bar and set out his collapsible cookware to collect water, he hummed a song to himself. As he curled up under his blanket, he sang a few lines as he drifted off.
“And everything must end so something new can start. And I’m on my way back home.”