The walk

Today had been a fairly nice day. I took myself for a walk, wandered on the roads, even in the woods. It so happened that I had managed to rouse myself fairly early this morning, with the dawn yet to break and the world yet to wake. Perfect. So I put on my boots and tied my scarf, took my coat off the back of the wardrobe, and finally my gloves from the bottom of it, and I was ready to tiptoe myself out of the house. Wouldn’t want to stir anyone else up, would we.

Night. I was aware of the cold even before I was finished locking the door. It was welcoming, biting against my cheeks.  I took a deep breath and took it all inside at the back of my throat, warm and snug. Everything at a standstill. Beautiful. Breathing. Minutes passed and the grass was still covered with dew of course, it hurt me to walk over it and rid itself of its sweet slumber. And the wrought iron gate squealed on its hinges of course (despite me imploring it not to, but it has a mind of its own).

The soft fall of the earth was now replaced by the hard snap of the road, still lit by halogen lights, casting several yellow halos in the fog. Did I not tell you about the fog? Oh, its beautiful in case you were wondering. I romanticized some more, this time with the fog and its halos, and then started my walk along this road, passing houses. Oh how snugly everyone slept.

It occurred to me that the night had enchanted this road in particular and it kept going on forever, for I kept walking and walking, not that this bothered me, not complaining. I was also delirious enough to think that I was the only one alive, and that thought did not bother me too much as well. Odd. As if to show its disagreement with this particular thought of mine, a cuckoo answered me in its morning call. Followed by one more, then two, then three, and then many. I broke away from my fantasies to notice that the fog had now disappeared, and the sky too, the night was now a soft beautiful purple. The cuckoos were still calling, and  I looked into the direction of their frantic calls and suddenly the sky was all the shades of red, pink, and orange. It didn’t take my breath away, but it was a good site alright. I stood there till the colors diffused and I still stood some more, only because I could.

Dawn. Mornings bring forth a new day, a new hope, and multitudes of humans. So much for my fantasies. By now cycles had started passing me by, joggers too. It was an ordinary road after all. So I decided to follow the birds and took myself to the woods. Nice and quiet. Familiar. An occasional rustle here and there, and I don’t mind it too much. You see, animals are more accommodating than humans. And thus I continued my excursion in peace.

I remember I was thinking about the stars when my foot stepped onto something soft lying on the ground. Dreading it to be a dead animal, and not being one who could boast of having the strongest of stomachs myself, I took my time in glimpsing down at the object which had found its way  underneath my left boot. Something white. A rabbit? Curiosity. So I bent down to get a better look. A toy. Resembling a bear. One of its feet partially missing. Probably chewed off by some other animal which had mistaken it for a rabbit only to realize that it wasn’t a rabbit after all. Funny. But how did this thing end up here in the first place. Did it belong to a child, who now has more exciting shiny toys to play with? Or was it a part of those amorous love affairs, a victim of a lover’s rage?Endless possibilities.

Afternoon. I spent some time thinking about this toy, what could have happened to place it at such an ungodly place for itself. Like I said, endless possibilities, it takes time to consider a fraction of endless possibilities. I could very well comprehend the turn of events which placed it beneath my boot. Endless possibilities. But I could not decide upon one. This disturbed me. How could there not be any ending. Of course, time and nature would take its toll, and it would wither away and die. But I was not satisfied with that possibility either. Not having any other option in my hands, I picked it up and headed back home.

Evening. The toy is in a fairly good condition. After a couple of stitches to the foot and with the stuffing safely tucked inside, it looks good enough to live. The firelight dances in its eyes, and the color has returned to its cheeks. I’m satisfied. I consider myself a fairly considerate person, if not generous. The toy must have gone through a trauma. I for once happen to know exactly how these things go, funny how I keep coming across traumatic things on my walks. So I picked the toy up, gently, and let it sleep on the chair beside me. I now prepared to go to bed myself, again tip toeing around the house. Wouldn’t want to stir anyone else up, would we.

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