The Walk

It was a spring evening that, for all appearances, seemed like any other. The sun had all but disappeared on the horizon, its pink hues mixing in the baby blue sky. It was so simple, but yet it was still a most amazing sight. Voices from the park were carried on the gentle breeze as children laughed and played joyfully, knowing that the school year was coming to a close. Their elementary school was to the west, just beneath the glowing ball. At one time it was my school as well, and there had begun the journey of academia. It had been five years since the promotion to the awkward transitional stage of intermediate school, and already I was half way through high school. Not much had changed in that time save for the company I kept. Through all the fighting that year, we all stuck together, trying as desperately as everyone else to figure out life. We all thought we were different, even chosen as we dubbed ourselves. None of this would matter. The school year was not the only thing coming to an end. As strong as our bonds were, they had suffered the strains and been fractured just enough to release easily. The ravaging of time could not have compared with what we did to ourselves. New bonds were forming. Comrades were leaving. And in the midst of this change, a curious urging compelled me to grab my scooter that afternoon and take off. The spot I stood in as I watched the sunset, felt the wind, and heard the kids playing was the point at which four paths diverged. That chapter of my life was over at that moment, and I knew that never again would I look at the park the same way. At the same time, there were new ways to go, a new phase to embrace. Instead of longing for what was coming to a close, it was something to stride forth into. About to turn sixteen and lose much of what had become important, I took the path I used least, knowing I never again would. Somehow in that moment I realized everything had changed. Everything was as mutable as the wind, and actually, it felt okay.