The Wide Path

As I looked at the picture of a perfectly painted sky. A rich blue with clouds of dazzling white. Polka dotted with black and gray, as the birds flew their flight paths. I thought upon the question which was posed to me earlier by an apparent apparition. He seemed so real. I felt his weight as I held him in my arms. The warmth his body created permeated my skin as the snow had fallen. The encounter haunted my soul, and I found it impossible to focus on anything else. What will I do?

I stood as the warmth of the rays caressed my skin. It was now spring and the trees budded with vibrant green leaves. Daylilies and other flowers had bloomed with rich and full colors. New life seemed to spring forth everywhere. The effect of the long winter had taken its toll. But with a new season that brought the wonderful life affirming changes, I was sure now I could move on. Being outdoors again in nature, hearing the singing birds and breathing in the fresh air. Finally, I could move on with my life. I had spent countless sleepless nights recalling the conversation that had pierced my heart. But really who was this man? Did he really exist? I still after so many days reflected on the day. But was the moment even real?

The fog in my mind. Would it ever be clear? Could I ever return to the man in which I was? I have been through times in my life where loss was devastating. Family and friends had died. Each putting holes in my heart. The loneliness knowing that I would never laugh with them again. I would never walk or talk with them any further. Time healed those wounds. Or so I told myself. I must move forward. The past is in my rearview mirror. This is not a hill too high. I will move on from that day, and it will fade away from my memory like the off-white powdery snow melted away after the cold dreary winter.

I felt my leg extend out and then pressure on my left foot. I was walking. I was moving and he sensation of it all. The motion in which drove me. I had been ambulating without my brain noticing. The fog in my brain. I had to clear it out. I had trodden the path for several hundred yards without realizing my action. I stopped and looked around noticing the wide path. It was well worn. The ground compacted by the many feet that had performed the same recitation of movement in which I had surprised myself with. Sparse patches of grass were scattered around the pathway. There was clear definition of the boundaries where many a foot had tread. This must be a popular trail. Untold number of pedestrians had to have worn away and compacted the soil leaving me no vestige of trouble in my wake. Was that day truly a day? Was the question I was left with, truly a question at all?

I continued walking along the path pondering the odd circumstance. Was the loud boom I heard pierce the snowy silence really a boom at all? Was the friend who left to find help really a friend? Was reality really as I had perceived on that long gray day? I looked up and noticed a whitish gray cloud floating low from the ceiling of blue skies. As I looked up, the warmth of the sun wrapped my worried face and there was a moment of revelation. Does the cloud have to have faith to hang so low in the sky?

The path seemed to lie before me for miles. I walked and walked till I felt like my legs were turning to rubber. I walked wearily forward. Marching to the beat of my preoccupation of the lingering question. What will I do? Then in a sudden burst of thought an answer arose. Do I really have to do anything at all? I am a man who has lived life. I have lost. I have paid the price of admission to the brotherhood of human life. I have also lived with happiness. Looking unto the face of my child when he was young and so full of life. I have had success in the world of business. I have had great friends and shared wonderful moments with them. Why do I have to decide at all? I have earned the right not to.

Then suddenly, another notion sprang forth to the forefront of my mind. The happiness that was with me all those times had also left me. My son had slipped into the grasp of death. My business fortunes had dried up, and I was left almost destitute. The friends I thought would be by my side had left me. As I lifted my head, I noticed the gloominess had returned. The sun had receded behind a thick bank of clouds, which had lost their brightness, leaving a dull gray blob in its place. Was this my fortune in life? Was I to suffer at the hands of the fickle weather? Was my mood to be subject to the absent thought of the wind, as it blew clouds in front of the golden spectacle in the sky? My mind wobbled and it all seemed so confusing.

I scanned the area around me looking for something that might pull me back to a sane reality, not the one in which I have found myself. Things I thought were up, now seemed down. Things were not oriented now. I was uncertain about my surroundings for a time. Where had I traveled? Where was I going? If only I could focus. This dream state was overtaking my life, my vision, and my consciousness.

I looked around me and noticed the broad path. It appeared that many people had traveled this road. It was popular. But there was no one walking it with me now. I was alone. Me, myself, and I. The totality of the loneliness was numbing. I do not ever recall being so alone. There was always someone around. A passerby, a person on a park bench, someone driving by in a descript car. This whole experience was becoming over burdensome. Was this the intended purpose? Could there be any other way to accomplish the end goal the man had intended?

I turned and walked down the path lost in my thought. The sky still gray. Where were the rays of sunshine? I hoped upon hope that at least one ray would peer through the murkiness of my soul. This feeling, this malaise was seemingly an everlasting occurrence since my encounter. I had to find a way to emerge from the angst my soul was encased in. I can do this, I told myself.

I paused and looked at the path once more. The width and wornness of the road. Many people had traveled through here. I am not the only one. I wondered to myself how they had emerged from their journey. If through my own means I could not overcome this unnerving dilemma, then I would see if I could do like the ones before me, so I continued down the path further. My pace was increasing and the peripheral surroundings became blurry. I just needed to find the end of the path.

The further I traveled the blurrier everything had become. I felt strangely lost. No one else was around but it was odd the path being so worn. Suddenly something grabbed my left foot and before I could stop myself, I tumbled onto the path. The soil mired my clothes and my body. My face had slid across the wet and sticky soil. I lay there awaiting a moment. A moment where my body would tell me some part of it was broken. A moment where I would know I was not well. I continued in my pause. The moment of realization came that my body did not perform that measure of response. After all that I was just dirty.

This path, this road with its width and its wornness was as overwhelming as the reason in which I started traveling it in the beginning. The road itself seemed to have a life of its own. The odd foliage was surprising to me. As I looked, I noticed the various varieties of plants. Some bringing a smile to my face and some just seemed to be revolting. I looked back down to the path and noticed a line of ants. One ant following another ant, each marching in rhythm. I wiped my face as something strange and wet fell down my cheek. As I wiped the tears away, I noticed more and more lines of these ants. The same forms, the same lines, repeatedly I noticed the march of the tiny six-legged insects. Where do they get their marching orders?

I jumped up and tried to reset my bearings. The further I traveled the higher the temperature seemed to rise. It was as if I were headed to a source of heat. This thought ruminated in my mind, and I could not quite reconcile what was going on. The lack of clarity was shocking to me. I had never been in a position like this. It seemed I was a passenger on a ride with no control of my destination. It was staggering the anxiousness that overwhelmed. The sky was drawing darker, but the heat continued to rise. The road seemed to be wider and wider, and I noticed more and more footprints. Suddenly in this distance something stood there.

It was an odd seeming structure. It was tall and it was wide from my vantage point. It also appeared spindly. There seemed to be dark lines in the sky. What was this contraption? Where did it come from? Why had I not noticed this gangly obstruct before? My mind raced to form an idea about what was happening. I could not help but think that this all started on that blustery winter day. The encounter with the man with the wound in his side. What did he do? What did he set in place? How did he cause all of this?

I thought back to his words, his question. What will you do? What does that mean? How does that play into the journey I am on? How did it put me on this broad road? I know this is not the first time people have traveled on this road because it is too well-worn and too wide. Did I just not realize I was on this worn path? Did my meeting help my eyes to open and to realize where I truly was located? Then a thought occurred to me. I need to find this man again and get the answers to my questions. But where would I find him? This road being so well trodden but looking around I seemed to be the only person traveling it at this moment. There had to be a way, there had to be answers. I must be resolved.

The heat seemed to be increasingly oppressive. The sweat beads were more noticeable now that were accumulating on my forehead. The proverbial heat was on. I needed to find relief. The mental and physical exertion was taking a toll on my body. I felt as though I was weakening. I was feeling a bit hungry but the thirst I was feeling was to the point of obsession. It felt funny up until now I knew the road was long and the heat had grown increasingly but the dryness mu body felt had suddenly sprang upon me. My insides felt like a cracking mud pan that had not felt precipitation in weeks. I needed relief. But where would I find it? I realized I needed help. The feeling was overwhelming. Where would it come from?

I continued walking, my feet dragging the realization of the unrelenting path. No matter its width and its wornness, it was taking everything out of me. This path was not the one I wanted to travel anymore but as I looked, I continued to see the object ahead. I knew what lay before me was closer than what was behind. I continued to press on in my weariness.

I looked and a hundred yards or so ahead I noticed another object. There was a bench and there appeared to be someone sitting on it. I hurried my pace. I needed to rest and the bench was a comforting thought. The real urge was to talk to the person who sat on it though. I needed answers and maybe this person could help. It seemed like an eternity since I had spoken to anyone and at this time, I was becoming more than anxious.

The closer I got the more I noticed the dragging of my feet. I felt as if I was recharged after seeing the person but for some uncertain reason my body was slowing me down. I was like an instinctual action from my body. This whole journey was beginning to be unexplainable and complex as I paced on. The closer I drew to the bench the more the figure sitting on it seemed increasingly familiar. His outline became more prominent in my mind. Then it all was clear. It was the man who asked the question. What about me?