walking

I was walking the streets of the suburb that I lived in as a child. I was making my way home, although ‘home’ was a house in a different street to the one in which I actually lived. I could see into people’s yards and into their houses as I passed them. As I turned the corner into the street of my house, I noticed three stone owls, garden ornaments, perched on top of a stone wall amidst shrubbery. Though they were carved out of stone, their owlish ears twitched, their beaks opened and shut, and their eyes moved from left to right. I thought it curious, but kept walking. When I reached the verandah of my house, I went to put my key in the lock but noticed that a second door, to the right of the front door, was slightly ajar. I was worried that someone was in the house. I went in through the second door and searched each room but found no one. The house was very pleasant if a little empty – wooden floors and large rooms with big windows. It did not feel as though it were a permanent home.

Later, I was again walking the streets of the same suburb although on the opposite side of the suburb. I wound my way up and down cul-de-sacs, looking for the right way to go. It was late in the afternoon. At times I walked straight though people’s homes, over their back fences and through other properties to the streets beyond. In one of the homes, I met a couple of women who lived there. They were getting ready to go for their nightly promenade along Park Avenue, a fairly busy suburban street. I felt very warm toward one of the women and as we walked along the street, I took her hand. She was tall, willowy and very gentle; I felt protective of her. As I looked at her, she became my friend C. I was very happy to be walking down the road with her.