Walk Through I Walk Do I Walk

Yesterday I took a walk for what felt like the first time in years. It sounds stupid and cliche, but I didn't realize how long it had been. Or more like I had forgotten that I used to take walks, all the time actually. I used to take off my shoes and walk barefoot, up our driveway, across the street (it hurt a little after it was repaved) and down the sidewalk. I remember the part of the sidewalk that was cracked and had some sort of weird sludge dried on it from the drainage leaking out of someone's lawn. And how sometimes I would step on pieces of the asphalt from the street, but it only really hurt when it was on your heel. I remember the place where the sidewalk stops abruptly, at the top of the hill, I guess because there's a fire hydrant or something. And the limestone. Like a tiny cliff. Remembering how this place didn't used to be enormous houses and manicured lawns you can't even roll in because of all the chemicals they use to make them green.

But my point here isn't making some environmental statement.

I took a walk and just let myself think, and I touched some plants, saw a cat and petted it. It's funny how you can just do that, walk up to a cat and pet it, and it just purrs and closes its eyes into little slits. It accepts the love of anyone who comes by, lets them give what they want to give and then lets them go.

I kept walking and ended up at a park, this one specific park I used to go to all the time last year especially when I was upset. I haven't really been there in a while. There were people with their kids running around and playing. Of course, because it's a park. I went on the swings. I love swings. And there's something so comforting about them. Maybe, I think, it's because they remind you of that feeling of rocking, your mom holding you in a rocking chair and holding you tight. How when you're little, and your mom is holding you, everything is still, silent, good, safe.
But I go on the swings a lot. Any time I can. It's strange too, that even though they are comforting, they still have this edge of danger, like when I close my eyes and suddenly feel like I'll never stop falling. It happens sometimes even when my eyes are open, when I look behind me. Maybe I have a general fear of things rushing away from me. The ground, the sky, people.

So I sat on the swings and went back and forth. For a long time. I think it helps thinking. I thought about all the different times I had been to this park, and how this place really didn't mean anything at all. You being there makes it mean something. One of the first times I was in the park was with my sister, just laying in the grass, in the sun. Silent, still, safe. The air was a little cold. When you stand up, you have grass on your back and in your hair.
A lot of times I came there and sat on the swings and thought and cried. I thought my way through my life and my existence and the present and I felt better.

I started thinking about things that had happened. And realized, who's to say these things happened? They're just in my head. there's nothing holding onto them except me. If I forgot, they wouldn't exist. But should I always remember? Is it okay for things to fade? It leaves questions. Holes. Then you have to fill them in later again. I don't want to be just constantly re-realizing. I want to build upon myself and my time, climb and build. Construct. But not plan. Just sketches. I guess for now I can use what I still have to remember. Re-member. To member again. Am I membering now? And then later add re-?

But I wonder. Am I still the same person? Is everyone? If only I could remember.