Last night I started watching television with my wife. Wicked was on. I didn’t really have an interest in it but knowing Francie had read the book I figured what the hell? We were watching the opening scene when a friend called her. I paused the program for about 5 minutes until I realized this was a long rambling social call.
As a result, I decided to write something. Having read Hemingway recently I kept thinking about his assertion that putting down on paper 'one true sentence’ will lead to better writing writing. I searched for one true sentence but such things do not come easy. I gazed out my window and watched for a few minutes as the day faded into the night. It was at that point that I found my true sentence. I will post it below.
After writing a couple of paragraphs I wasn’t sure what to do with it. Too short for a blog post and too wordy for Facebook I thought. But I didn’t want to stash it in the 'I wrote this' file with a date and an odd title. If I had done that, it would have been filed in 2025->Writings->7 Abril 2025 Evening Walk. My final decision was to post it along with a twilight picture on Facebook.
Damn if it didn’t get some of the finest responses. So, I think we can draw two things from this. First, there is something to Papa's one true sentence idea. Second, inspiration comes in many forms including trying to avoid a normal and mundane telephone conversation. Grab inspiration where you can.
***
Often I walk in the last blue moments of the evening. This is that hour where light is mostly a memory painted across a western horizon so pale as to be nigh on imperceptible. My steps still fall one after another but slower than they did five years ago. And fall so much slower than they did fifty years ago.
But it doesn’t matter. I walk because I have always loved to see the world as it is, as it was, as it is becoming. In those two miles I circuit I observe stone and glass. I see decay and endeavor. I see impatience, love, indifference, anger and sometimes angelic peace.
My evening walks are a time for reflection. They are often a meditation where I empty my mind using the rote rhythm of my steps as my mantra. Walking down the narrow sidewalks of this old city forges a connection with the world around me. In the changing landscape I observe and in the people I pass I witness the subtle transitions of life. Forty minutes of contemplation, where the past intertwines with the present usually refreshes my spirits. Life flows on with me for now. And in the joy and madness of the city streets I am reminded of the fragile beauty of our world.
Go outside. Talk a walk if you can. At the very minimum inhale the late evening air and savor the moment where day becomes night.
