Up the down staircase
I strolled campus to run a few errands in the midday sunshine. Strolling is not yet the casual pastime of yore, as my gammy leg still is untrustworthy, and much vexed by the 30 cm of snow received over the weekend. The rivulets, streams and mountains of slush required close attention as I circumnavigated a couple of blocks, dropping in for croque madame here, switching up library books there, and taking the sunniest route possible back to the office. Most of the people out and about had the same paralyzed look on their faces as they greeted lake after lake of slushy stuff; climbing into adjacent snowbanks, which although they were deeper, were more solid that - ew! - water. The free spirits in their burberry fashion rubber boots jumped in with glee, while the street shoe clad ones fretted on the curbs. There is no where for this stuff to drain!
I'm sure I too held a stern expression while I gingerly stepped, slower than most; in a flash, this was completely shattered when I happened past a subway entrance I use as a shortcut. Among the crowds exiting where I wanted to enter were four young girls, walking up the stairs backwards. It's the first day of March break, and although they seemed destined for some great cultural excursion, it was clear they had already achieved the day's highlight - it didn't require $20 admission, no coats being checked, nor endless stimulation. They were making a challenge and a game of something they use everyday - only today they'd made it that little bit different. Their giggles and joy at getting to the top of the stairs backwards caught me, and flipped my focus - to the simplicity of journeys and who you take with you. Getting there is more than half the fun.
