One Foot in Front of the Other

One foot in front of the other, I tell myself, as I trudge to where I need to be.

Trudge trudge, trudge trudge. Things are going slower than normal on this very routine walk, in a straight line directly from the north to south of the city. I brought headphones to listen to a podcast, but I decide not to listen to anything. Listening to two people chatting obliviously would be far more painful than the silence of this moment.

My mind is a blank. A freshly-painted white wall. No thoughts contained within. I feel odd for not having any. Shouldn’t I have some? I look at the recently fallen snow on the ground and notice how beautiful it is, making this walk a lot nicer than it would’ve otherwise been.

Trudge trudge, trudge trudge.

Today I feel anonymous in this town. I know now, there are worse feelings. It isn’t so bad at all. My expression finally matches those around me of the people I don’t know, but nobody would see it anyways, covered by a face mask. I haven’t bumped into anyone I know on the street now for months. I recall a time in the not too distant past when I would frequently see friendly faces during this trek, the sun would be shining.

Today, just white sky, snow, gloom. But the gloom is not unwelcome. Secretly thankful that I can move through the town unnoticed today.

Trudge trudge, trudge trudge. I feel like a phony, still trying to go about my daily business like nothing is happening. I know now what people might be feeling when they say “life is hard”. It never really had been for me (yet), but I have to acknowledge that I feel like I’ve lived a year just in this month alone.

The air, from what I can glean under my mask, smells fresh and salty, perhaps from the salts on the sidewalks from the recent big dumping of snow. I think about the song “In The Bleak Mid-Winter”, especially as beautifully sung by Sarah McLachlan. I think this is a Christmas song which even refers to Mary and Jesus, but the title seems to describe today perfectly. I suppose, right now is my “wintering”.

One foot in front of the other. I’ll get where I need to be eventually and it may take me longer than usual, but I will always keep moving… but learn to take a pause when I need to. I guess that pausing and resting are often harder things to do.

Goodbye, January. You came in softly, happily and didn’t turn out anything like I thought you would. It may be one of those cliche sayings, but it always makes me feel better in times like these. This too shall pass.

---

This post is my attempt at honesty in a dark time. My heart goes out to all of you that have experienced loss this season. You are seen and supported.