Noun: a state of being pleasantly lost in one's thoughts; a daydream.
I’m out for a winter’s walk. The road is icy, but there is a strip of sand down the middle of it. I walk facing the traffic. I don’t know how far I’ll go, or how long I’ll walk, but it’s beautiful. The sun is shining, and the white fluffy clouds dot the sky. And the bare trees, some coated in snow, are reaching for that sunshine.
I walk up the hill. It’s hard. Every step I wonder will I hit ice and slip? Or will I fall? My legs are screaming with the effort and I’m out of breath. Don’t stop. Won’t stop until I reach the top. I’m talking to myself.
I keep going up and up, carefully and deliberately. I reach the top, a few more steps and I stop. I listen to the wind in the trees, the birds. The silence of the forest. I walk further. Eventually I cross the road and I walk back on the other side of the road, facing the oncoming traffic. I’m walking beside a snowmobile trail, but it’s still silent. All I can hear is my heart beating, the rustle of my snowpants, and the crunch of my footsteps.
And I walk.
I listen, and it’s silent.
My reverie is interrupted by a slow rumble. I hardly notice until it’s closer. And then, I don’t look back, I just keep walking right beside the snowmobile trail. And as the trail meets the road, I stop and I look back. There are four snowmobilers and a snowplow. The snowplow slowly pushes the snow bank back. The snowmobilers slow down as they pass me on my left; the snowplow driver slows as he passes on my right. I’m sandwiched in between.
The snowplow driver waves out the window.
As they disappear, I begin walking again, slowly, step by step down the hill. It’s icy on this side, too. I keep walking. I can hear the roar of snowmobiles in the distance. I can hear water burbling under the bridge. The channel between the lakes never freezes over.
I walk. Carefully. And slowly make my way down the lane, keeping to the side where it’s less icy.
I walk home.