By dogwithnobrain

Another Runner in the Night

from the age of 15 3/4 I walked to school through a field.  

A field of Long grasses, rabbit and fox holes, butterflies, slugs, snails, sky larks.  

I didn't know then, but that was my mindfulness time.  I wandered through the well trodden paths on which people walked their scabby mongrels.  Everyone had scabby mongrels - even us. 

I looked for the sky larks dropping to the ground, and tried to find their nests, I watched the bunnies running around, I examined dead bunnies - mixing-my-toassties was quite a real thing back then. 

Late early february I wasn't keeping well.   But still I trudged back and forth.  This was my Ordinary Grade year, and one morning it was frosty and a bit of snow had fallen and I stomped my way across the field; walking the paths, even though I couldn't see them. 

About half way across the field, Crunch. Crunch. 

I lifted my foot, and there glistening in the snow was a snail.  Shell crushed to death. 

I looked at it, and burst into tears.  I was inconsolable. 

I'd like to think it was because really I was sick, and my sickness was playing on my emotions. 

But honestly, I was just devastated that I killed something for no reason. 

So tonight, while we walked, I stepped carefully around, and over, and even stopped to take a photo. 

And then... bloody hell, as we were walking back - crunch. 

I bloody well did it again.

Sign in or get an account to comment.