A Walk Without a Destination

Some walks are errands with better weather. Others begin when you close the door without a route in mind.

The second kind feels inefficient at first. There is no destination to measure progress against, no list to complete. Your pace changes. The first interesting street becomes enough reason to turn.

Let the day interrupt

Without a plan, small things regain their weight: the sound of dishes through an open kitchen window, chalk marks from a game finished hours ago, a pear tree leaning over a fence.

None of this is useful information. That may be precisely why it clears the mind.

I usually return by a longer way than necessary. The problems waiting at home have not disappeared, but they have been reduced to their proper size. The world has interrupted the story I was telling myself about the day.