The sidewalk was closed, so I went another way.
It was a route I’d not walked before even though I’ve walked nearby many times before.
Quiet tree-lined streets, hidden yet so close to the busy commercial road I’d been on moments before. If I didn’t know better, I might have imagined I’d stepped out of one city and into another.
One city…full of deadlines and meetings, drivers on a mission, text messages and urgent emails.
The other…an established small town, peaceful and sleepy. Sure of itself, and content with what it had to offer.
Full of surprises, like small coffee shops hidden in converted houses and mini-dog parks.
Beautifully adorned with hanging flower baskets, dripping from a recent soaking.
Quietly busy, full of joggers and walkers with dogs.
Majestic antebellum homes sharing space with modern townhomes and small shotgun cottages.
There I was, in a different world simply because I took a different path.
And as I walked in the quiet, I felt my stress slip away as my pace slowed to a stroll.
It was morning. It was glorious.
And I felt…alive.