Walking in a city, a true city downtown; like a city street complete with pigeons, paraphernalia and pomp with no circumstances besides the fact that the streets are not only watching, but they talking now…

Walking in a city like that is a blessing.

When I was younger, we walked. I feel as if I’ve said this before, but that’s how you got around. Yes there were bikes and scooters and skateboards, but you still locked.

The story of the old man telling the kids how he walked 7 miles in the snow every day to go to school actually have some foundation

It was a mile to my middle school, but it felt like so much more.

Mainly because it involved walking down a street with a couple of people that at times would join me on the journey. My path was likely longer than necessary, but the additional companionship was worth it.

It was also worth it to angle the path past the 7-Eleven, just a five-land highway across the street from the same hospital I was born in.

That market was a beacon point, providing video games, drinks, a meeting place, a snack spot for visits to the library (which was right down the block) and a chance to practice some five-finger thefting.

I’m not proud of my sins, but I willingly admit to enjoying a snack and a drink courtesy of whatever diminishing returns that allowed for such lack security that a middle-school student could easily pilfer without fear of repercussion.

It made the rest of the walk home easier.