Left instead of right

Saturday, June 26, 2010
2:00 p.m.

Each day I sit at my desk, staring out my window overlooking the street below, wondering where the narrow road wrapping along the metal fence up ahead leads to. I have seen multiple exercisers take this road along with the occasional car or two. Maybe the road parallels a river, maybe the road ends at a neighborhood, maybe the road goes nowhere. Wherever it may go, it is my turn to wrap around the metal rails and find out.

When I approach this road, I soon realize that it ends shortly. I am then presented with two possible paths. Do I cross the bridge in front of me or take the path to my left? I choose left. I am alone but I am at peace with being alone. The large river that parallels me reminds me of my family’s river house on the Shenandoah back home; however I am not homesick. I am alone, but at ease.

The trees I pass were alone. These trees catch my attention more than the slowly, flowing river, more than the birds screeching above me, more than the people passing by, more than the man attempting to talk on his cell phone while riding his bike, more than the dogs walking off their leashes, even more than the abundant greenness in the distance that I am still getting used to. Before the birds, the people, the dogs and the paved pathway, these trees stood alone. I know this because of the largely, twisted roots and the trunks I can only fit one-third of my arms around. When the strong wind kicks in with its soft, howling hum, the intertwined branches of leaves begin to sway. It’s as if they are waving hello to me. It’s as if they know I am thinking of them. I imagine how, if Cork wasn’t so overwhelmed with commercialism now, they would be in a more peaceful state of solitude, similar to me.

As I observe the beauties of these trees, I forget to stay on my allotted side of the path. Because the Irish drive their cars on the left side of the road, people are supposed to pass each other on the left side as well. Go figure. Maybe the trees got a laugh out of my flawed since of direction. Just maybe.