I decided yesterday to walk to school today. What’s the point in living in the city if I don’t take advantage of it? I have not walked to classes since my junior year of college. Not all that many years ago, but in a very different lifetime. It seems that I am almost an entirely different version of myself… a more authentic, mature, calm, self-aware version. Since then I’ve earned both my bachelors and masters degrees, started teaching, moved across the country and back, fallen in love, got my heart broken, cut my losses and learned a lot about myself and how I view the world around me.
As I start out walking across the Office Max parking lot towards Colfax I see a parked police car and decide that it’s not such a bad idea to walk down Colfax, at least for a while. In my neighborhood, at least within a few blocks of my place Colfax really isn’t that scary. I walk towards Immaculate Conception, my favorite church in all of Denver. For some reason I just love the idea of this gorgeous cathedral right smack in the middle of the one of “most dangerous streets in America”. Last weekend when I was just moving in, there was a wedding. I could hear the bells ringing to celebrate their vows and it filled me with some odd sort of joy, love and hope. These strangers, people I don’t even know are choosing to spend their lives together. Making a commitment to each other and their union and I got to celebrate it with them. I love this church.
I see a group of people, five maybe six, gathered half a block down on my side of the street and figure that this is a good time to head over to 16th… I’ve been thinking about how to navigate my neighborhood. Walking down Colfax past the Capital sort of implies seeing a number of people who are homeless or sleeping off a bender or some sort of high. I’m not sure I want to wake anyone who happens to be sleeping on the marble steps or the lawn. In fact, I’m sure I don’t want to wake them!
I head downtown and am surround by buildings that grow taller and taller and more generic. All of a sudden I begin to wonder if I am in St Louis, Oakland, even Phoenix. These are not cities that I’ve spent much, if any time in, but this part of Denver feels like any other medium sized city. It ceases to be unique, to be vibrantly Colorado and I wonder if my feelings on this will change as I get to know this area better.
I head down the 16th Street Mall. It is amazingly quiet this time of day. A street sweeper goes by. The MallRide cruises back and forth. Outside of the Starbucks a man is playing the harp. He has a Red Flyer wagon packed with blankets and clothes and what must be all his worldly possessions that he uses as a bench. He has a little hat out in front of him, with a few coins and bills in it, although it’s so early I have a hard time believing he’s actually making money. His eyes are closed and he sways back and forth to the music he’s creating. It’s not very pretty as harp music goes; it sounds slightly out of tune, I think, and he often plays discordant notes, as if he really doesn’t care. It seems he is only playing for his own enjoyment and it adds a nice layer to the sounds of the city in the morning.
Coffee takes much longer than it should. The people in front of me are having a conversation with the barista about the newly re-mastered Beatles CDs that Starbucks music is hawking these days. The man wonders if it is a cover album; it’s not and I wonder how in the world Starbucks got the rights to re-master and re- release these albums.
I walk down the block where my ex boyfriend and I had our first big fight. I walk past the Paramount and Marlowe’s and past the corner where I threw the bag of freebies at him after the Warren Miller film we saw with his friends all those years ago. I can almost see shadows of us from that night… signs that were telling us that we weren’t the perfect fit we had both imagined we were. Signs we wouldn’t listen to until much later, until it was too late for us to do anything except break up.
By this point I realize I’m definitely going to be late for class and I’m not sure if this realization is a defense mechanism in response to dealing with the memories of Ben. I’ve been strolling along, taking in the city and the day, reflecting on how my life has changed and how I’ve ended up exactly where I’m supposed to be, even though it’s not where I thought I would be or where I thought I wanted to be. Now I have to pick up the pace and shut down some of the reflection so I don’t walk in absurdly late.
As I walk down Larimer, hurrying now, I see a couple in their mid to late 40s with three enormous Great Danes. Everyone is stopping to talk with them and pet the dogs. I watch a car stop at a green light to comment on these beautiful creatures. Crossing Speer against the light, I have to hustle to avoid getting hit and I realize that I’m so busy talking to myself about this walk, about my life that I’m not exactly present. I’m just so inside my own head this morning that I’m only attending to events or people that resonant with me. Since I’m not driving cars aren’t really in my realm of consciousness.
The sidewalk in front of the building is wet and I splash in the shallow standing water. The sound of my shoes and the sprinklers distract me from the reality of actually having to go in, to relinquish this perfect September day and enter a classroom with no windows. Many days I enjoy continuing my education. I love learning the theories and then being able to relate them to my practice in the classroom. But today I just want to stay outside. I want to sit under this cloudless blue sky and watch the sun move the shadows on the ground. I want to hear the breeze move through the trees and feel the warmth of the early fall light on my skin. I take a deep breath, capture the essence in my memory and walk inside.