The Trail

   One day we wake up, and we’re old. We had been getting older, following the same path we always had as it wound its way through the world; but one day each of us sees the end ahead of us, distant though it may be. Does anybody ever figure out where the time went? Has anyone ever found it, wherever it’s hiding itself away?

   Was it behind the couch cushions, where boy kissed girl for the first time, hearts racing and stomachs fluttering? Was it lying at the bottom of the river, the sound of music and laughter muffled by the deep, thick water, young men and women cutting into the depths with their bodies as they fell from above?

   Did it leave with the woman who fled the apartment of the man she thought she loved? Did she steal it? Did he ever notice it was gone, his mind lost in the haze of drink, his sight in that of tears? Did it peek out from under the floorboards where it had been lost, watching as the memory of happier days faded away like any truly spectacular dream always does?

   We look back down that road long traveled, and find it difficult to spot it in its entirety. Sentimentality wins out. Photo albums are pulled out of their dusty tombs, mementos pulled down and examined anew. We remember the people who we met throughout our journey, be they ancient acquaintances or new-found friends.

   We look for them, peering through the trees on either side of other paths that might be nearby. Some are still walking with us, recognize us. We smile and wave, shake hands and remember how far we have come, compare the quality of our respective journeys. Other paths, we can’t find. Some ended long ago, cut short and replaced by gristly underbrush. Some are just too far away, and that’s fine, so long as they’re still walking.

   We close our albums, we lay our memories back to rest again, for the time being. We take a final look back, and take the first new step forward, then the next, and the next after that. We keep walking, taking turns and stumbling along the way; but every once in a while, no matter how soon our trek will end or how far we’ve traveled, we look back, and we remember.