Casual observer

A short walk in the neighborhood

Down the road I walk. It's spring. The asphalt ground is covered in pink cherry blossoms. They sway and turn in the wind, moving upward in small cycles, before gently setting back down. 

As the wind blows, more petals descend from the great cherry tree towering above my head. I look up to the large bunches of flowers, but avert my gaze as I hear a car approaching. 

I carry on moving. I feel uncomfortable, exposed. Why do I feel this way? As soon as this thought finishes, I receive an influx of ideas. It's because you have body image problems. It's because you have a low-self esteem. It's because you're experiencing a deep existential dread. Jeez brain. Thanks a bunch. I only stepped outside to buy some groceries!

I exhale loudly and dramatically, roll my eyes and laugh quietly.  Observing the ideas that constantly arise in my head is sure as heck a bizarre experience. Where did they come from? Why are they what they are? Darling brain, could we compromise on the type of thoughts you create by default? For every thought you send me about, how, I don't know - my hair isn't the right shade of light-brown, could you also generate a great business idea?

I carry on walking, matching my facial expressions to my respective ponderings.  In hopes, naturally, that I don't appear as complete loonie by any casual observers.
And observers there aren't many. Despite the warm spring air,  the beautiful blossoms and the occasionally protruding sunshine,  I am alone in the street.
In such moments, I always wonder - where is everyone? What are they doing? Are they all at home? Watching TV? Perhaps eating, doing homework, catching up on emails?
I glance through the windows of a house I'm passing. I cannot see anyone inside. I turn my head across the road - no one in the opposing house either. 

Perhaps they are doing something really interesting and adventurous. Something commoners like me aren't privy too. I start thinking of the potential scenarios, assigning imaginary families to the houses I walk past. 

Here, for instance, the Singh's live. They are a tight knit - a family of four. A strict mom, the homemaker. Dad, a busy owner of a small business. Two sons, just entering the early stages of teenage-hood. They are all out, because.... I stop. Hm. They must be hanging out with their community of fellow, uhm. Happy families that have their shit together? Sound's right. And now, they must be singing in a chorus,  while their capable parents or siblings play an intricate instrument. Stupid happy families and their heart-warming ways of forming tight bonds.

I don't actually find them stupid. I am a bit envious. Ok, very envious. The idea of bonding in my family was for everyone to spend time in their respective bedrooms, come out to eat, exchange perfunctory pleasantries, and retreat back into their rooms. I sigh again, loudly. 

The clouds are so beautiful, white and fluffy. The sky so blue, so vast. My mind is creating yet more sobs stories for me. I finally turn the corner. Right, no more thinking, I think to myself.

Let's just be, at least for a minute. At least just 10seconds. Let's just walk.