Chicago Pt III

On a bright, sunny day in 1986, I walked out the side doors at Eastview Elementary School, and began my way down the familiar one-mile path home from school. I walked through a neighborhood, past the public pool and around the middle school.  For some reason or another, the other girls I usually walked with were not along that day. I’m sure I stopped to smell flowers, wonder at the clouds, and gaze with jealousy at the birds and butterflies soaring in the air. Yes, I was that kid; my whole world was full of beauty and joy. I knew at the end of my walk, my mom would be waiting with apple slices stuffed with peanut butter and marshmallows.

Perhaps I was thinking about telling my mom all about my day, when out of nowhere, a group of teenage girls began to pick on me. They sneered names at me as they each took their turn beating me up. They punched me and kicked in the backs of my knees. They dragged me, through pea gravel, by my crimped blonde hair before walking away. I was left on the path with blood stained, ripped-up jeans and a crushed spirit. I do not remember how I got home that day.

This summer, I drove over 700 miles and returned to my childhood home to walk this very path again. One might ask, why, after 25 years have passed, would anyone would want to do such a thing? The truth is I did not even know why I wanted to go back. I simply knew it was something my body, mind and spirit needed to do. 

I drove to my elementary school, through a neighborhood, past the public pool and around the middle school and parked my car. I walked to the part of the path where I was beaten, and I marveled at how much smaller it seemed. The surrounding trees were now much taller and there was no more painful pea gravel, it was now paved. I felt strong and even grateful, as I walked and recalled both good and bad times. The path itself was nicely landscaped to one side, and the other side was overgrown with unkempt shrubs, weeds, and dotted among them were the prettiest pink wildflowers! I picked a sprig of the wildflowers, and wondered that they would grow in such conditions. I returned to the car, and pressed the wildflowers in between the pages of my book.

As humans, each of us are on a journey made up of multiple paths. My own story illustrates how most life journeys are pieced together by multiple paths, where good is experienced right alongside the bad. At times we find ourselves on a sunny path shaded by beautiful, green trees. Everything in our journey seems to be going well. The future seems bright and clear. Other times, we find ourselves on a path overshadowed by the remnants of thorny, hollow trees. This path seems to be dominated by darkness with low visibility. Sometimes we experience twists and turns which are not up to us. We might even be dragged into conflict with other people along this path.

These particularly difficult stretches can leave us feeling bewildered and defeated. These are the times 

when we might look to a neighbor, a family member or a close friend to guide us back to the sunny path. Sometimes, we might even seek the help of a counselor who empowers us to clearly see and build our own way to a newer, better path. Either way, only we, ourselves, have the power to change the way we view our journey, what we choose to do with our journey, and how we choose to experience our journey. We can focus on the weeds, and be dragged away from a world with beauty and joy. Or we can notice and cultivate the beautiful wildflowers springing up despite tough conditions.

Now when I think about my memories along that path, I remember the wildflowers. I remember all the other walks on that path that I shared with friends, the beautiful sky, the flowers, birds and butterflies, and I am grateful my heart has stayed open to beauty and joy.