This evening after work, I stopped at the Katy Trail by way of Reverchon Park.
I walked up the familiar concrete ramp and steps to the Thomson Overlook
And made my way to my favorite stretch between the overlook and American Airlines Center.
This time I decided to walk down to where the trail begins, marked “0.0 miles.”
And I noticed if you look at the other end of that marker, it is also marked “3.5 miles.”
I smiled to myself and thought how beginnings and endings get mixed up.
So I decided that I would, for the first time, journey from this end to the beginning.
I tread briskly along the darker path marked “pedestrians only.”
I stopped at every water fountain.
I had nowhere to be and no obligations on this Monday evening.
I walked, jogged, and side-stepped, but my mind was lifted and still.
I thought about the trees along the trail -- beside, behind, and before me --
How each one had her own story, her roots and her branches gnarled and sprawled in majestic, muddy, scarred storytelling, like every being on that trail.
I walked, jogged, and sidestepped until I reached “3.50 miles” at the other end/beginning at
Airline Rd.
I stood there embracing the moment and the extraordinary, chilly breeze of May 2, 2016.
Then I remembered I had to walk back to where I started.
I jogged on the way back until
I noticed a wall with some words painted on it.
I paused and took a picture, as I often do, afraid of forgetting moments.
“Do Not Demo Do Not Demo Do Not Demo”
The words declared insistently three times, demanding to be noticed...like poetry.
I took a deep breath and thought about how we tear things down to build them up again and vice versa.
We even tear each other down to build ourselves up.
As I walked and jogged and sidestepped the rest of the way back, I stopped at every water fountain.
I returned to my car over two hours and 8.17 miles after I began. And as my journey ended, I had to look back at those trees one last time.
