Just a Walk in the Park

Charlie went for a walk, as he was wont to do when he was feeling out of sorts. He walked all the way uptown then across town and back again. He walked until he finally came upon Central Park. He walked past the pond, up East Drive, continued past the Bethesda Fountain and over the bow bridge; he walked all the way around the Reservoir and up to the North Woods. He walked and walked but the feeling of melancholia was an oppressive thing riding along with every foot step. As much as he walked he couldn’t shake the feeling. It was cold and bursts of cloud came from his mouth and trailed off him like an old steam engine choking along up a steep incline. Charlie felt the ground rising to meet his footfalls, a glad counterpoint to the burdensome oppressiveness wrapping him. His feet took him to the lake again.  The winter earth hard and unyielding beckoned to him. He stepped off the path. The ground crunched under his shoes. He stared off at the water, and the naked limbs of trees, and the hardy green shrubs and evergreen bushes. They spoke to him telling him something without language.  Charlie had left a letter before heading off on his walk.

Dear Louise,

Love is an everlasting spring-time. What detours did my heart take to find you?

How many frozen mornings turned bright with scented air have we had?

Ethereal spears collecting rays from cool chickadee mornings, the warmth of fields stirring moved my heart in the right direction. What detours do I still need to take? What obstacle needs to be toppled still? Love is an everlasting spring evaporating the mists of mourning.

 Intoxicating visions burst forth saying;"renewal, renewal, renewal still!"

Before I met you my heart was already broken by you. I have rummaged my way through life with a soaking soul too long.

 Standing staring out at the lake and the trees, he felt the earth comforting below him in his toes, on the balls of his feet, his heels, he felt himself growing down into the earth. A great release whelmed up inside him. He felt the melancholia calcify and drop away. He couldn’t move but didn’t have too all the nourishment of life was right there in that moment. So Charlie stood like that firmly rooted, reaching skyward basking in the sun.