Walking Home

Some people had to take a bus to get home.

There would be a school bus and they would get on it and be transported wherever and then get off to go where they were going. That worked for them.

My parents were able to get a school where we could walk to school. It wasn’t a short walk, but it wasn’t too demanding. When I first went there, my parents knew how things would turn out because my older sister had already done the trek in the previous academic year and was used to the route. For my own safe-keeping, I walked with her on the first day, but as soon as she knew I was comfortable with the walk, she ditched me to get on with it so she could maintain her credibility among her peers.

(I might be exaggerating that a little to gain sympathy from you the reader. My sister looked out for me in those early days, but … yeah, she didn’t want to walk with me to school.)

It wasn’t so much the walk to school that was the issue, it was more the walk home from school. Everyone was gathering to get to school on the journey there, but there was a scattering that took place after school as folks went to their different places of abode. I didn’t immediately find walking buddies to do the journey back home with, so it wasn’t unusual that I would make my own way home from time to time. I kinda got used to that to be fair and it’s where I got into the thing of enjoying walking and seeing the benefits of taking time to think things through on those strolls home on my own.

Enjoyable though that was, there is something to be admired about walking home from school with a friend. Yeah, it’s a true story, I did make some friends at school eventually and one or two of them would be able to come along most of the route home with me in walking. Now that route would take us through a park and up a steep hill to get to our location, so it was good getting the breeze and feeling of freedom in the park before going on the slog up the hill. That walk really did teach me how to take my time with something – that hill could not be rushed at all.

That meant more walking time and more time to talk and share. Remember, I’m of school age so it’s not as though the conversations I was having at the time were deep and profound kinda things that radically changed the way we live. Yet they were great conversational opportunities. I enjoyed walking with someone and the laughs we would share or the minor debates we would have. That engagement and interaction made the slog up the hill seem like nothing because of what we were engrossed in.

There would be little side games to take our attention, like the stone kicking game where we’d come across a set of small stones and see if we had the skill to kick it all the way to the nearest drain and the one who got it in the drain with the fewest kicks would be the winner. Apparently golf is a little similar with the ball and clubs and stuff, but I have not really wanted to do something like that at all. The stone kicking game was a lot cheaper … for me … my parents weren’t big fans of the wear and tear it brought to one or two pairs of school shoes.

In any case, those walks home were great. Time taken up in conversing and sharing, laughing and arguing, getting over steep hills and enjoying lovely parks. Better done in company.

All on the journey home.

(Photo by Clarisse Meyer on Unsplash)

For His Name’s Sake

Shalom

C. L. J. Dryden

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