ALL THAT WAS LEFT BEHIND

In my mind, therapeutic exercises could be as simplistic as strolling down a damp, dimly lit street. One can drive by that very same street countless times, and will never perceive the diminutive, but curious details of the ongoing surroundings that you soak in on foot. It's an altered experience completely. I liked to feel the world as it brushed by my twig like fingertips and breathe in its stillness, as if it were a luscious scent waiting to be wafted.

             I remembered to think that whenever I chose walking as my mode of transportation, but mostly I guess I was only trying to save on gas.

I looked at the various houses and wondered over the stories they contained as they each quickly passed by behind my steps. Each property contained a series of memories that have been collected over the years, gathered and locked up in those rooms and those minds of the unknown. It was strange how different each home and story may be, even though they were all on the same street. You'd think that they would reflect each other into some sort of easily calculated pattern, but in reality, each one was even more diverse than the last.

Sure, most of them were one story bungalows, with a tiny porch and a tidy lawn, but even with these insignificant similarities, they all murmured their undiscovered personalities.

Diversity is vast, anywhere one goes.

My thoughts were clouded in its observations of the frigid night. The cold wind chilled my bones and burned my face like a gruelling breeze of icy flames as I treaded along. The shadowy hours of darkness seemed to be a stunning, but harrowing ocean, as many of the twinkling stars were swept under the ferocious current, into invisibility.

My breath became detectable in small puffs of miniature clouds; hence I zipped up my sweater up to my neck. As my steps quickened, my breath exhale deeply and quickly like a train's smoke, and I started to curse staying so late.

It all seemed too lonely; the roads were basically dormant, except for the odd car that would rush by in a rushing whirl and a flash of light that blinded my eyes momentarily. No late night wanderers such as myself however, I was alone in a sleeping world.

Once I reached my street, I saw the line of comforting trees shedding off the top layer of their rusting leaves, leaving them scattered in a muddle all over the sidewalk. It was like scattered rice after a wedding, for an autumn princess.        The bare branches were ferociously waving in the wind and kind of reminded me of long twisting arms of a monster, trying to unstuck itself from the ground in a state of rage.

After imagining that lovely thought, I basically sprinted down the last few silent houses to find my own. My feet pounded heavily, and I was concerned that my thudding heartbeat would become audible enough to break the night's fragile silence.

I wasn’t exactly afraid though, it was just too cold and creepy.

I noticed that the lights were turned off in my neighbour's quaint little house when I trampled over my lawn; although I could see the colourful blur of the television flashing from Terrance's bedroom window. I wondered if Sherry knew that her teenage son was up watching television at this time, or if he was breaking one of her strict but few house rules again.

I felt relived as I finally reached my door of my small but humble abode, which was once painted a vivid red in order to keep evil spirits from entering. I always gave a chuckle at thinking of such a time when my family was like that, adventurously thinking, and united in avoiding negativity. Silently noting the fact that the outside porch light wasn't left on for me, I let my numb fingers fumbled with my jangled ring of keys. Eventually I jammed them in.

Opening the door revealed the mess I left behind. I had meant to clean it up, but I had been occupied with schoolwork, so house cleaning remained on the back burner of my present to-do list.