where the sidewalk ends

Tonight is a good night for a walk—and I know this because I just got back from having one. Waking up from my post-dinner “nap” at 3 in the morning, I decided it was time to get up and out of bed. But to do what? I asked in my sleepy state. Seize the…night? Everyone is asleep. Are my roommates even home? Yes. Didn’t I set an alarm? (no) Hmm. Is homework a reasonable pursuit right now? These are strange questions to have to ask yourself at this hour.

Rubbing contact solution into my eyes, I set to walking around my room. I notice you’re still up, computer. Why didn’t you wake me up earlier? Sleep mode is all the same to it I suppose. I look through the blinds and notice that the dark sky is full of stars. Hmmm. Should really be outside to look at them properly; there’s just too many to enjoy from in here!

And with this I threw on my jacket (I was still fully dressed, which made the decision easy) and crept out of the house. Every window in Laker Village was dark; the only lights were the RA’s porch light and the apartments in back of ours that seem to use their living room light for a nightlight even though they are never downstairs. Despite the darkness of the apartments, the lamp lights along the sidewalks cast a bright light on the (now awkwardly loud) sprinklers. I meander about toward the back of the ‘village’, realizing that if I want to really see any stars I will have to be far from these lights.

The parking lot behind the apartments stretches out for what looks like a mile before hitting the fields of corn and cross country trails. I walk in the general direction of the edge of campus, but still wonder if I will want to go that far. Well, I know I want to, but am not sure if I will. What’s stopping me? I have to laugh, realizing I have come to where the sidewalk ends. No choice now but to hit the road! Walking down the road feels strange, I think because this is something I never do since coming to school. When I am home, it never feels strange to take a late-night walk down the road to a place where I can see stars. (I could see stars from my back yard, but would rather get away from my parents to get a feel for my own space) There I am sure that when I walk down a row of dark houses, the people in them are fast asleep and that I am more likely to run into a nocturnal animal than another person. Here, that question is up in the air. Being on a college campus, even Grand Valley in June, I am not sure that I won’t run into someone if I walk off into the countryside at night. And if I did come across someone, would they be someone I wanted to meet on a dark road? The fact that I even think of these questions bothers me, as does the fact that I am thinking about them rather than enjoying the walk itself.

I leave the road where I see a dirt entrance into an empty field. Maybe from here I can see stars? After walking several feet, I realize that the plants under my feet are in rows. Oh! Corn…of course! Not wanting to squish them, I stand in place for a while. I am standing next to a tree that, though it always stood out while driving down the road, never seemed so huge before. Really, that is one big tree… It just stands there in the night, old and massive, like an aged sentinel watching humanity flourish and grow over the land. It watches me too, or maybe simply knows I am there, this little girl standing in awe of its old tree-ness. I don’t really warrant a watch, so much as the tolerance of my being there. There seems to be trust, but it is not absolute - I am still a person, one of those who is resonsible for things like the freeway, whose dull roar is eerily audible even from here. Time to go back to the road…

It is impossible now to not notice the roar of the highway, but it is easier to see the stars here away from the parking lot lights. I pick out constellations: my Scorpio, that weird W (“Cassiopeia”, whatever)…the familiar dippers. Well, from here the dippers are a little different; the big one is divided into slices by parallel power lines while the little one is skewered by a cell phone tower. I just have to walk further down the road to see the Little Dipper un-skewered. Much better. Right then I see a big shooting star. This always makes me smile, because it’s such a treat. I wondered who else saw it, if anyone? Quickly I tried to think of something to wish for. Nothing of the standard sort came easily, maybe that means I lack nothing? That’s a comforting thought. I am ashamed to admit, though, that I used this only shooting star I saw to wish for a safe walk. Was that really necessary? Couldn’t think of anything better to wish for? Too late now, you used your wish. Gah. Turning around lets me scan the area and the road I walked, which takes one away from the campus lights. Stopping to really notice the road, I can see that even though I am far away from the light, I can still see the light reflected in the road itself. Indeed, looking down at my shoes I can see that they are still lit up ever so faintly, and tall shadows stretch from my feet out over the road in different directions. I have about five shadows, and I thought I was completely in the dark! In a move I’ve done since my walks with Kiirsten on Horseshoe Bend, I lay down on the road. It is still warm from the day before, and you can nearly see all the stars at once from this perspective. Lying in the road is one of my favorite things on these summer night walks, when you know there are no cars coming for miles. Maybe because that’s such a rare opportunity?

I can’t help but think as I’m out here, how many people really appreciate living here? These nights in Michigan have to be some of the most beautiful imaginable. While not exotic, they are amazingly pleasant – the air not too warm but not chilly, no bugs to eat you alive (unlike up north), and relative peace and quiet in the places that still allow it. Enough of my peers probably spend these precious nights 1) indoors, 2) “going out” for fun, but not conscious of the night or the wonders of outside space or 3) waiting for the day when they move to somewhere “more interesting”. To these I can only say …well, nothing really. I’m too busy enjoying myself on my night walk. The experience speaks for itself. (Despite the fact that I am writing about it – the point is that this writing captures only some specific thoughts; it cannot document or recreate the experience of the walk itself. For that you have to take your own walk.) It’s a shame that most of us will continue moving too fast to realize what we’re missing, probably up to the very point of being too late…

Walking back down the road in the direction of the lights, these are my thoughts. The old tree is far away now, still standing at the edge of its field. The very thought of being afraid to walk out beyond it seems silly to me now. Was I really afraid? I can’t help but appreciate that I can take a latenight walk, without being afraid of the things that kept me indoors while living downtown:

“What I wanted to do was take a walk after dinner tonight. What I ended up doing was walking around the corner, then turning around to walk back to my front porch to sit and smoke a cigarette…” (7.23.04)

Not that I ever wanted to be afraid, but that’s just what happens. The struggle to be free from fear is a worthwhile cause. While I am aware of the box that formal education can impose on the mind, sometimes the box that fear imposes is less obvious. And it is especially ridiculous when the former is pursued only out of the latter...but that’s a ramble for another day. Speaking of which, I could start my homework now.