We went for a walk, my niece, the dog, two boys on bikes, and me.

The worms were out, scattered across the sparkling, just-rained-on driveway like the longest pink eraser shavings you've ever seen.

We walked, and they curled and uncurled themselves in the sun, seeming to have come from nowhere and with nowhere to go.

Then I saw all the little trails behind them, crissing and crossing over the packed gravel.

A labyrinth of the past. A record of paths intersected.

And I realized that's how my own past looks, crissed and crossed and scattered and directed by the steps and the influence of others. ...continue reading →