The girl didn’t know where she was going. She just ran. It
was windy. At first she was crying, but the wind, coupled with a growing sense
of freedom, quickly dried her tears. Soon she felt at one with it, almost as if
that’s what was carrying her, not her legs.
This park was her special place. It had been so long since
she’d been here, yet just the same as if it had been last week. She passed
several people. No one she recognized. Soon, she was breezing past the concrete
patch that intersected the golf course, not bothering to stop for the possible fresh
swing, like the sign warned, not caring if one hit her in the head. It was
really more of a courtesy to the players anyway, she knew, to not disturb their
concentration.
After that, the grasses and flowers of the season thickened.
The murky stream was at a standstill on one side, like usual, while the creek
that eventually led to the river flowed along quickly. No longer was she
contemplating climbing down the bank with rocks in her pockets, or any of those
other drastic scenarios. That darkness was gone. Now was like the dreams she
had, once in a blue moon, of flying, soaring. The trees ahead signaled the split
in the path, neither leading anywhere of interest, each a dead end in its own
unique way.
But the pain was gone. She’d forgotten all of it – years
worth – when the tears started again. Soon the trail would end. She slowed and
dropped to the ground, sobbing. It was a while before she got back up, gathering
herself together in anticipation of the long walk back. Nothing had really
changed, but at the same time, everything had.