The Alley, My Passage

Retracing Childhood Steps Can I apply this to today, learning to survive each day?

Would I walk there today? Would I still feel the same way? 


An alley was always a place I enjoyed walking through. I liked the feeling. For some reason it felt to me…. time had slowed down. Like, I was between two worlds, leaving the old to enter the new. A place to get focused again, clear my head. Disappearing from the world.

Sometimes on a pitch black night, I would walk the alley two houses down from us. I would stand in the middle of the entrance, position my feet, doing my best to be accurate, look straight ahead even though I could not see anything, close my eyes and start walking. My ears were wide open, each step I hoped to hit asphalt. A few moments of solitude. Focusing on what was ahead.

One alley would be dirt and I could step in and the air seemed to be still. Quiet. Those kind were my favorite. No way out except to keep walking. When I stepped out, the world seemed to be alive again and a hot breeze would hit my face.

Then, another would be full of smells. Alcohol. Smoke. Stagnant, but not one person around. Oddly, enough, if I walked these alleys day or night, I never met one person. Not one. It felt like I had been given certain times to walk there and every one else had there own place to be then.

The alley. It draws me. Always has, probably always will.

My passage, for a silent regrouping of my soul.

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