The Longer Way

Ever since I was a little girl, I have loved going for walks. My family would often go for after dinner walks. I spent a summer with my grandparents while I was in grade school and to this day, I cherish the foggy early morning walks I took with them. In college, walking after class gave me room to think. And while living overseas, the best way to take in a new city was walking it.

Walking is noticing. But somehow, I now find myself in an ever-frantic suburban American life, where my default has become to choose the quickest way.

Because of the recent presidential election, the past couple of months have been unbelievable for the U.S. Our country is chaotic and noisy right now. I’ve wanted to shake my fists, share my opinions, claim my rights and protect people who are hurt and afraid. In the loneliness of my feelings, I’ve wanted to hide. In my anger, I’ve wanted to prepare a feast of words and fill gaping mouths of injustice and hatred with truth. I’ve wanted something to happen, and happen now. Frantic fears and frenzied loneliness say there’s no time to take the longer way, no time to stop and notice that the seasons are changing.

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