that time, outside

I think the nightly ritual of going for a walk, a slow and aimless walk, has sadly lost its significance to the jaded, fast-moving city folk. My mom's family always invested a great deal of energy on the evening walk. It seemed like a waste of time to me at the time, but looking at it now I see that it was anything but. To get various generations of a family to spend time together, outside, without any form of meddling, artifical influence is a feat that I now believe may be somewhat impossible. These walks took place on farms and in mountain communities and involved grandparents, parents, aunts, uncles, cousins, cats and dogs. Mostly I remember how the air smelled and how the grass felt, either dry or cool on the evening of a hot summer day, depending on the province this took place in. I remember pounding the dirt, ground with my feet - by this I mean to emphasize the lack of concrete - and not worrying about dirt or bugs or dog slobber or school or anything. It's amazing how those elements - air, earth, sun, sky, stars, the smell and colour of the moment when you can't tell if it is still light or almost dark - are the only things I can understand as timeless. This experience only exists in an urban setting in an extremely muted and astoundingly less awe-inspiring way. I heartbreakingly realize every day that even if I wanted to try to re-create those moments, the people and places that hold them together are long gone.