"I listened as we all collectively sang..."

Home. Six in the evening. Fatigued. Spent. Slightly hung over.

My soul was out of tune. Knowing sleep was futile and any attempt made to relax would only further my restlessness I resolved to step out for a late afternoon wander through the neighborhood.

I readied myself; corduroy jacket, camels, lighter, and 21st century innovative tool of escape and evasion: the Ipod.

“Going for a walk.” I announced. Not expecting a response and not requiring one. Door closed.

The front stoop. The chilled air. The lights from the streets casting illumination only in the ovals at there bases – only gracing those that pass directly under with sight.

The evening air settled in all around me. The reds and yellows melted into new hues of gray, purple and black. Nightfall was touching the neighborhood ambiance as I sat on the front porch perfectly alive and appreciative. Smelling. Listening. Feeling.

Companionship may always be found in the simplicity of life. This I knew and this was the motivation for the slow walk through the mazes of parkways, drives, places, streets and avenues of the neighborhood.

My hands found their proper places in the corduroy jacket’s front pockets. I pushed in deep and allowed my wrists to fold over so as to allow more arm length to be sheltered. The shoulders of the coat tightened and I leaned my head back against the resistance in the neck line.

The Ipod honed in on my lack of enthusiasm and without programming provided me with songs I wanted and lyrics I, well, needed… Radiohead announced “this is what you’ll get.” towards the end of Karma Police. I concurred.

The neighborhood was a façade of quiet and still. I knew better. I knew that inside of each of these boxes and rectangles sat families at tables and children in living rooms and grandparents in back apartments and couples making love and teenagers contemplating sex, ethics, and suicide. I knew that behind the walls of these homes they lived and they grew old and they eventually passed on. I knew that each had their own stories of contentment and suffering and heroism and beauty and …

As I walked I took note as to each family in their castle. Some sat reclined in the front rooms with large windows, curtains open wide as if knowing I would pass by. The room, lit mostly in blue, would flash white and red and green as they waited for the television to tell them something they needed to realize. They romanced in this way and they cried in this way and they laughed in this way and they lived nightly in this way.

Other homes disclosed small families of two to three people, seen only through the slightly ajar front doors or window blinds. A man and an older man sat on a sofa sections patterned after styles of yesteryears. The walls were white and scared by a strip torn from the sheetrock paneling exposing the gypsum inside. As I walked on I continued my gaze. The man and older man disappeared from sight and I now looked upon a large woman sitting at the end of their kitchen table. She had her hands clasped together and her elbow firmly affixed to the table edge – pondering. I wondered if she was happy. I wondered if she thought of classmates and what became of their lives. I wondered if she cringed at the possibilities of passing one of them in the grocery store.

I inhaled strongly. The smell of a thousand meals charged me. I recognized meats, breads, casseroles, and coffees. I ached at the thought of the lone dinner tables untouched by these smells. Dryer exhausts discharged scents of fabric softener and freshly clean laundry ready to carry us, the people of this vast and insane world, through and into to the next day and the next venture.

Dogs accosted me as I passed, rough and mean, until I paid them no mind. They sniffed at my legs and went on back to their prowling and protectiveness. I smiled, almost thanking them for not sampling the back of my knee.

A man sat alone on his front porch and enjoyed an assumed long-awaited evening smoke. He sat, sunk low in a deck chair. Elbow on the chair’s arm, hand at ease near his mouth so as to accomplish each drag with minimal physical application. He coughed and winched, stood and spat over and into the yard. Fearing my own deterioration I quickly extinguished my cigarette within the next several paces.

But ah, night air. Encapsulate me in your darkness and provide asylum for this weary soul I beg of you. Take on my forebodings and fail to leave me. Forgive these folks for their unwillingness to entertain you and your cordial hospitality… I’m here and I’m lonely.

As I walked I felt – nay, I knew – I knew wasn’t alone. I heard the footsteps of a thousand lonely people wandering the neighborhoods of their own worlds. Carving out problems and issues on the walls of the night sky full with stars whose shapes we’ll never remember. I listened as we all collectively sang out songs of happiness and appreciation and as we all united whispered solicitations of guidance and heartfelt aid.

Together we all cried and laughed and groaned and wanted and angered.
Together we walked on until we reached that point were we knew we had done just enough for one day.
Together we paused, took in a deep breath, and turned and faced the direction towards home.
Together we’ll press on and make it through to see tomorrow night.