Footsteps

I took a walk today. Though I’ve barely spoken all day, I figured I didn’t have to stay in one place either. So I boiled some water, made myself some chi, put on my warm coat and scarf – an old gift – and walked.

I spend a lot of time looking down when I walk. I always do, actually, but more so these days. It probably started because I’m tall, so I naturally do things to compensate for that. I slouch. I know I have a tendency to stand with my feet relatively far apart, effectively lowering my eyes closer to the height of whomever I’m speaking with. But I know that when I walk I often just stare down. And I can actually picture my feet in different places. I can picture the hallways of one of our hospitals late at night, staring at my feet as they carry me to the next task - exhausted. I can picture my sneakers in a city in Haiti, in the mud of the earth, taking me quickly past the poverty and to the clinic where I attempted to do some good. And today I looked at my feet as they carried me away from my home and outside – away, anywhere.

Eventually I looked up. I saw lots of couples walking, some dogs, runners, bikers, and geese, which I’m told can bite if you get too close. I kept my distance. I looked out at the river as I finished my tea, with the skyline rising behind it. It was the perfect recipe to smack me with the sense of loneliness I was trying to avoid by walking in the first place.

So I came home. At least, I think this is home.