The Walk

It was the same time every day. Aman and he would go for their late afternoon walk. They would stroll into the warm golden light that marked the dipping of the sun just beyond the stone-walled horizon on the far end of the estate. The silver oaks stood tall and motionless on the borders, imitating the stillness of mountains. After their lunch, a nap, and some tea, they would almost unanimously walk up to the porch, as though they had somehow learned how to tell time by looking at the light spilling into their doorstep. 

"What shall we talk about today?" he quietly asked hiding his impatience as he felt her hesitancy. "I'm not sure, what the point is. It isn't like you can help." 

"I can listen" he replied, almost ashamed that that was all he could offer. She smiled. Aman had never understood her place in the world. She felt as though the world was like a piece of clothing, sometimes too tight, sometimes too big. Never quite right. And she had tried it on many a time until she gave up. Not on the clothing of course, but on the world that just didn't seem to fit her strange existence. 

"Well, I was thinking at lunch today. How monks live." she paused in her steps, noticing a beautifully dried leaf that was almost down to its skeleton, exposing all of its veins and intricate intersections. He was busy listening. "You know, how they have nothing to look forward to? But somehow that doesn't seem to bother them." He was pacing himself with her, to listen, but all he wanted to do was gallop like a horse and take in the beautiful sunset and the grass beneath his feet. "Oh?" He said. She smirked, almost sure of his slowly diminishing attention. As though caught red-handed with a flaw, he snapped his attention back to her. "Well", he said, "It isn't as much about them having nothing to look forward to as much as it is about just being here." She sighed. He quickly realized that was not what she wanted to hear. Of course not, he thought. She already knows that. "Yes, but how can you keep that up? Being here, all the time? How does their mind not wander?" He laughed as he adored her indignant curiosity to extract tangible answers to such wonderment.

"You don't know if they can keep it up. Maybe they are just pretending. Like you." She snapped back at him, so furiously she almost tripped. "But they try. They practice." he continued.

"Well, I practice. And nothing happens. I sit still and once I get up I do what I need to do for the day, but my mind... it wanders. My heart wonders and imagines all the life that went unlived. And then, how can I not get sad?" 

He walked a few steps and then paused. Something had caught his attention. A bug? A snake? No, it was a frog. He ran towards it, wanting to pick it up but it wouldn't stay still. It jumped from one spot to another and back. Not going anywhere but moving constantly. "Your mind is like this frog!" he said, as he jumped back and forth with it, still trying to catch it but without the intention of hurting it. And he did. He caught it just for a second, instantly dropping it as it squirted out urine out of sudden fright. She burst out laughing. "My mind is like that frog!" She half yelled rather joyfully. "And that is what it does when I try to catch it long enough on a thought!" 

"You pee?" He asked, also gleeful at the fact that she seemed to have lightened up. 

She turned around and they continued to walk, a little more slowly now, both wanting time to pause a bit. "It's just that if all of my life I was to be exactly where I was or am, then why bother trying to plan for anything at all?" 

"What did you plan for?" he asked, still eyeing for the frog from the corner of his eye but instructing himself to behave quietly. "Oh, just a few things. Some travel, a bit of love. I planned to write too." She paused in her step, almost so suddenly that he bumped into her behind. "And? Did you not do any of it?" 

"No, I did. In fact, I did do all of it. It just didn't end the way it was supposed to." 

"Ah" he said. "So you are unhappy with the results." She looked away, almost unwilling to understand the simplicity of what was being deciphered. "See, monks don't have expectations, only experiences," he exclaimed wisely.

"You are a good monk." She looked at him, giving him a hard pat. "I know" he replied, tongue out, tail wagging, gladly accepting the compliment that was well-meant. 

They strolled back together as it was starting to get dark. He looked at her, before jumping into a horse-like gallop back for the house. She walked back slowly, smiling, holding her deepest secret close to her, wondering what she would talk about with her best friend tomorrow, on their magical walk together.