Story-A-Day #428: Pathways

PATHWAYS

It's not like it used to be.  These pathways used to be wider, and much easier to navigate.  Now they are overgrown, crowded with limbs, and leaves, and other obstructions that have grown up over time.

When I was younger, these pathways were my paradise.  They meandered through the forest behind my parents home and directed me to new adventures, new secrets waiting to be discovered.  I would wander these pathways and expect the unknown on an almost daily basis.

Sometimes I would discover a pond, and plumb its depths for hidden treasures: maybe a painted turtle, or a slime encrusted plastic boat left behind by some other wayward wanderer.  Other times I would stumble across an old fort or cabin and pretend that it was mine; a secret hideout where I would defend myself with a wooden sword from an onslaught of deadly foes.

I had many great times exploring those forgotten trails, seeking out new adventures both on, and off the path.  But that was a long time ago, decades.

Today, I stare up the steep incline and know that most of what I once marvelled at would be gone, reclaimed by the nature from whence it first sprouted.  I know that those ponds would be long since dried up; the forts and cabins, long since collapsed upon themselves.

I start up the trail regardless, knowing that those shining moments from my past would have long since faded, but that there might be new discoveries to be found.  Surely the new generations of kids could not be so glued to their televisions and gaming systems that they had not built their own hidden refuges?  Surely nature had not continued to grow and develop in weird and marvelous ways?

The strangest thing about life is that it is full of pathways.  Some of them become worn and familiar as we wander their ways throughout life.  Others become regrets, the path left unexplored that could have resulted in so much more, or less, than what we know about life today.

The great thing about pathways is that they are yours to be either taken, or ignored.  Sometimes you choose the right pathways, and sometimes you take the long way to get to where you need to go.

These may have been the pathways of my youth, but sometimes it is good to return to the well of nostalgia to see if there might not be more to learn, more to be told, more to be discovered.  Sometimes it is just nice to know that childhood is what it was, and remains what it always will be: a past lived to its fullest.