Tonight I decided to go take a walk after dark. The decision was actually made before dark--to take a walk after dark.
It's a beautiful night. The eastern sky is deep, deep blue. Not quite black. The outlines of the foothills that surround our valley are still distinguishable. The stars are just beginning their light show, and over there in the west, a lighter hue of blue still hangs on at the point where sky and earth meet. The aromas of early fall have become increasingly noticeable. At first a faint and delicious blackberry smell gives way to a distinct and homey cedar that is fueled by the slightest breeze. My senses are alive and I myself am pleased that they are.
As I walk I can't decide if I've come to collect my thoughts or merely to take inventory of which ones I'll keep and which ones I'll let go.
Walking is a nice way to remember my thoughts as a boy. Maybe it's because I revert back to my first mode of travel, or maybe it's because it's so simple and serene like I was way back then. Either way, it's nice. The street on which I walk is sparsely lit and I like it that way. I can hear the train whistle off in the distance and a cat scurry out from under a car as I walk on. I pass by houses where the front room is lit only by the blue glow of a television. It is so quiet now that I can hear the heel-to-toe rhythm of my own steps beneath me and I suddenly realize that I am thinking the same simple thoughts I did as a boy. I think I'll keep these.
It's a beautiful night.
I just thought I'd tell you.