While out walking today I made up my mind to begin risking looking like a nut in favor of doing things that amuse me, because we don't know what this life will bring, and it's really something when you think about the fact that you've got a finite number of times to see the moon, or a dog, or to hear a friend laugh. All our days are numbered. It may seem unfair, but think about this: even the sun is dying; the earth cannot rotate forever.
With this tinkling around inside me, I walked through a field next to a busy street barefoot. The end of the field loomed much too soon, so I made circles for a while. Big circles and little circles, to stretch the moment and drown the discomfort of imaginary judgment.
When I was a child, I loved going barefoot in the summertime. Cool dirt, hot concrete, damp asphalt -- it all belonged to me. I even loved the part where I had to put my shoes back on, because that meant it was time to go inside the carryout for pop and candy, after which would come bare feet again.
Funny the things we give up because we think it's time. We do this even as time spreads plots of grass before us.