Shall We Walk?

It was another brutally cold day; both inexcusably and ridiculously for March in the southern Virginia. We (my 29-year-old coworker and I) were on the way to drive-through for some fried chicken. A greasy yet comforting lunch made sense after a confusing week with temperature fluctuating between 70’s and 30’s. We were letting out our frustration while we dreamed of our hot, scrumptious chicken. I was fuming especially about missing my morning walk when my young coworker cut in, eyes wide open with excitement. “I should walk too. When the weather warms up, we should walk together.” Without a second to spare, I blurted out, short and precise, “No.” “Why?” She asked with more protest than curiosity. “You can’t keep up with me.” I said. “That’s exactly what I need: someone to whip me and push me”, insisted she. Without a split second loss I replied with same obstinacy: “I don’t want to talk when I walk.” “Is it just physically too strenuous?” This time she was sincerely curious. “Yes,” said I with equal sincerity, “Talking and walking is too much work.”

I realize that my coworker’s request was not all that unreasonable. In fact I have seen enough coworkers doing so, in 2 or 3, everyday. What seems to be most natural in their body language, the smile, ease and talks, is exactly the most absurd to me. How do they do that? And how COULD they? It pains me even to see them doing it.

Later on that day when I had time to reflect on our interactions, I began to feel some regret, only on my lack of diplomacy or tactfulness rather than the answer itself. I would reply with the same answer each and every time. That night I asked my other half what he would have said. There was no reason to expect from this born loner a different sentiment about “walking with others”, but he did say he would have said something like “Maybe. Let’s see.”

I had my “Maybe, Let’s see” older days. In fact, I was a proud graduate from “Maybe, Let’s see” or even “Sure, why not”. There were plenty of days when pleasing others was almost an obsession to me that my mouth would always unwisely say yes before my brain had a chance to stop it. How desperate and needy I was, and how frustrating and foolish it must have been to try and fail time after time! Of all failing attempts, the worst trauma came about 15 years ago – it ironically too started with walking with someone else.

S was then 6, young, ignorant and over-zealous for his almost first social come-out. Prior to this, he had known almost no one except his autistic brother, thus one can appreciate his (or my) excitement when Chris came to the picture. The family had just moved in – appearing at first glance a perfect match for us with a father working too at the college and mother full-time home-maker. The two boys from the same neighborhood attended the same school and the same class. Imagine our joy! So we had our hurdle underneath: our autistic older son and socially inhibited 2nd son vs their two perfect children, and the frozen chosen Calvinists vs the liberal Presbyterian couple, but no one is perfect and we were more than willing to forgive and forget. Soon enough the two boys and mothers were thrown together at play time, phone calls and all that motherhood good stuff. For a little while, I almost felt normal – until that tragic downfall, when we started walking together.

Beth and I first bumped into each other in the 5:15 morning walk at the neighborhood. After a few times of “good morning, how are you?”, it was logical that bumping together turned into walking together. In truth, except for speed, there was nothing in common between us: she was soft-spoken, sweet in demeanor, and kept a house clean and white. While her life appeared to be perfectly in order, mine was anything but. It was, though, not our differences that caused the ruin, but the talk along the walk. Granted I was excited about being admitted to the “mom circle” finally, the 40 minutes of non-stop, friendly chit chats turned out to be just most exasperating and excruciating! Before long, I found myself stuck in a situation where I ran out of not only topics on my miserable life but also comments on her perfect one. The walk turned into this insufferable pop quiz that I had not and could not possibly have prepared for – EVERYDAY. To recover, I decided to cut down on our morning session. I started my round a half hour earlier and met her at the end to do the last 10 minutes. When questioned, I frankly admitted I needed time to wake up. My candid andswer wasn’t well received as I had expected. Pretty soon, my new friend started missing from our walk, and then the phone calls, eventually all interactions altogether.

Looking back on this unfortunate rift, I can finally deduce that it was caused by a combination of my own poor judgment, lack of self-understanding and haste to conform. As much as I sympathize with her sense of rejection, I have to defend my honor that I was then young and hopeful, not realizing my socializing deficit. After all, it wasn’t just my son’s first social attempt alone; it was mine too. This mistake, though sad, did teach me precious lessons: (1) talk and walk should never mix and (2) if necessary, I reserve the seats solely for Bach and my mate, bound by law and life, with whom I have neither need nor fear to please or displease. My young coworker may never appreciate my curt response but this overcomer, much older and wiser now, would rather be blunt in truth than blunder in foolishness. No matter what, let my walk remain forever more sacred as it should be: solo and safe. Amen.