I take a step, and am enveloped in falling leaves and a chilly wind that blows back my hair. I look around, and see a couple carrying cardboard boxes into an empty house. A For Sale sign stands in the yard, a big SOLD hammered across it. I watch as a man cuts down a tree.
I take a step, and am surrounded by slowly falling snowflakes, the world a strangely pleasant shade grayer than normal. The sky is white, overcast. I look over, and see a fallen tree covered in snow. I see through the window of the house a fire in the couple's fireplace. I see the couple in the same window. They look angry, and seem to be yelling at each other. One of them drops their hands to their sides and runs outside. They turn back and yell something.
I take a step. I see melted snow dripping from tree branches, pink flowers on trees, some of their petals breaking off and floating through the wind. I see the person that ran outside in the winter. They are taking cardboard boxes out from the house and putting them in a car. They are crying. The other person is looking stubborn, and is silent. They stand to the side as boxes are carried past. I see the car doors get closed, and see the person step into the car and begin to drive away. The person left walks inside and slams the door.
I take a step. I see green leaves on the trees, sunlight streaming through. I see the person walking outside and standing on their porch, shaking their head. They sit down on a chair and bury their face in their hands, still shaking their head. I hear them yell “Why, why didn't I stop her” and they begin to cry. I shake my head, feeling deep sorrow for them.
I take several steps, walking down the street a good bit. I look over at the house, and see an elderly man sitting in the same chair, leaned back and staring out at the world. There is a cane leaned against one side of the chair. He looks over at a small table next to him and picks up a picture of a young woman in a wedding dress holding hands with a man in a tuxedo. They are both smiling. She is holding flowers. I hear the man say “I'm glad I didn't stop her.” A single tear rolls down his cheek, and he whispers, “She's so much happier without me.”
I jump. I land in front of a house, two elderly people sitting on the porch. One is a woman, the other a man, and they are both looking a picture of them both at their wedding. The man says something and then gets up, walking inside the house. The woman takes a small picture out of her pocket, a picture of a young man. “I never saw him again,” she says quietly. I see a small smile come to her face, and then it disappears. “I should have apologized.” The smile comes back, and she says “I hope he had a good life without me.”
I jump twice, and land in front of a grave. The headstone says the name of a man. The date of birth and death indicate that he lived to be quite old. There are words under the name and dates. The words state “'TIS BETTER TO HAVE LOVED AND LOST THAN NEVER TO HAVE LOVED AT ALL.”
I take several steps backward, watching as everything done becomes undone. The picture of the wedding vanishes. The tree cut down. Standing. The house sold. Unsold. The world gets smaller and smaller, and soon I am surrounded by darkness. “Perhaps,” I say, “I should take it one step at a time.”
