Walking to School by J.H.

How many times have I walked on this route? It must have been at least two or three thousand times, considering that I’ve walked to school two or three thousand times. Truly, nothing starts the day like taking a walk through these streets. Breathing in the fresh smell of wet grass during spring and embracing the bittersweet breeze of winter all starts with the first step out of Sprucewood Court.

The unchanging wooden fences await me as always like a loyal dog, predictably stationed in the same place every day. And, not a stone’s throw away from these static fences, vehicles speed over the asphalt, divided by a yellow stripped line. If the road were a lively river, the cars would be its fish. In truth, I’ve heard the vroom-vroom of their engines so much that it unnerves me to walk unaccompanied by them.

Despite the busy traffic and housing of the city, these streets are not devoid of nature. Trees of pine, oak, and unidentified others dress elegantly as the seasons pass. I know them all too well. The vibrant, bright greens of spring, the vivid reds, oranges, and yellows of autumn, and the bare branches of winter have all displayed themselves on my daily path.

If the key to mastery is repetition, then I must be master of walking to school. In fact, I know the way so well that if I were blindfolded, I could navigate myself perfectly along the gray cement road. As well, the stoplights have also become predictable. I always seem to find myself knowing when the welcoming sign of pedestrian crossing will abruptly change into a flashing red hand.

This day to day trek is not always without companions. The company of friends is always welcomed and the presence of strangers is always accepted. Whether it is pedestrians, drivers, or squirrels, I have grown accustomed to the conscious beings I encounter on my way. Indeed, I’ve come to identify all the people walking here. They are dog owners, walking either small bundles of fur or loud excited, hounds. They are exercisers, ESL students, cyclists, the elderly, and most of all, school bound students like me.

So I walk. I walk with the taste of breakfast or lunch still lingering slightly in my tongue. I walk with the fear of an upcoming test or a forgotten assignment. I walk bathed in the light of the summer sun or in the frigid snow of winter’s morning. Most of all, I walk with a feeling of confidence that this is somewhere I know well. That this is somewhere I could look at years from now and say; this is my route to school.