A Bigger World, A Draining World: A Coda
It was twenty-one bitter degrees out when I went for my walk today, and the wind chill seemed determined to blow every one of those icy gusts straight up my pajama pants. Gini had gone back home to get her phone, telling me to go on without her… but that was half a block ago, and I wasn’t sure if she was coming back. I took tiny steps with my sneakers; each step was treacherous, with snow, ice, unexpected slopes. My hand ached with cold because I had to clamp my hat to my head lest a gust of wind carry it away, my knuckles turning white. If I fell, I didn’t know anyone would come to get me.
And that block. It went on forever. A sidewalk that was an endless series of concrete squares, houses that took five minutes to shuffle past, landmarks an eternity away.
I kept walking. Putting step after step down.
You’re larger, motherfucker, I spat in the world’s icy teeth. You threaten to swallow me. But I’m gonna walk you down to size. One step at a time is how I master you. Each step makes you smaller. Makes you mine.
I kept walking. Alone. Unaided.