Train of Thought #15 - Hard Walk

Written May 8th, 2025 at 11:30pm. Published October 22nd, 2025

Part of the “Train of Thought” series. See that link for more information.

There was a young man. He was about average height with brown hair. He also was on a road, a walk you might call it.

Up and up and down and down it went. Over the hills and mountains, through the streams and valleys, it kept going. The end wasn’t very clear, and even right ahead of him was almost like a mist, fading off into the distance. Yet he kept on.

Most of the time that is; at times he would stop, or at least he thought he stopped. Often it would appear as if he had in fact walked a few steps back, even though his feet hadn’t moved an inch.

Up and down; down and up. The road went on and on. But he was not alone. There were others, some closer, some farther, walking and walking. Some of their roads looked similar to his, at least to him, and others appeared wildly different. Most of them were too far away in the distance to clearly tell. Some were running others were walking slowly, and a few were standing still though to his point of view they moved backwards.

Most of them ones in the distance were too far away to make out clearly at all. He mostly grouped them into different “types”. Some looked kinda like a straight and narrow road, paved out in front of them and they walked briskly along it. Others were twisting and winding like a stream. And still others wandered aimlessly, as if they had no end, no goal or destination.

The ones closer to him he could see some of where they came from and some of what they looked like. These he sometimes allowed to come close enough to practically overlap but that was a select few. For good reason, not all of his path was well kept. He had mostly been able to keep the edges looking nice. The hedges along the sides were nicely trimmed and cleanly kept. He even kept some flowers along the outside wall.

The inside was a different story. He had thought it would be easy to keep it clean, but this was a task much greater than he anticipated as soon as he touched the ground it seemed to become like scorched grass, almost as black as the dusk. Nothing grew underfoot at first. As he kept walking, he tried to get close to others paths and he started to see how they kept their paths.

But most would only show him a quick glance into their paths and he generally thought he saw a nice well kept path. Clean and paved with smooth cobblestone with flowers planted on either side. He could never get his to look anything like that, though he tried. Every time he worked the ground, it felt like an endless chore, an endless and impossible task. His path looked pitiful, a few flowers here and there but nothing of much value, certainly not presentable.

He kept going on and on. Eventually he met someone whose path almost crossed his and he got a glance inside and saw something that looked much too familiar. It looked like his path! Mostly black with a few flowers, but they barely seemed to grow.

As soon as he saw it, the other person looked away ashamed, as if he was unworthy of any attention. Quickly the man showed him his own path and the mess it was in. They began to excitedly discuss the burnt grass and the flowers and how nothing seemed to work. They realized that it was more than just them. They weren’t the only ones to have black paths and they walked, paths almost overlapping for a long while.

After sharing with each other all the things they had tried and failed, they started trying new things. At their great surprise and delight, their flowers started to grow. The grass looked a little less dark. They had a sense of hope, of joy even. Knowing that they were making progress, they began to work harder and with more effort. They knew they could challenge this hard earth, that they could create something. They knew they could grow.

They kept walking, running at times. The sky even began to look a little brighter and the mist seemed to fade slightly. They could see clearer and farther than before. Before long, they had bright patches of flowers on their paths and it truly seemed like a miracle.

Many good things come to an end, and this was no exception. Eventually, after many miles of walking side by side, their paths slowly stretched apart. They no longer saw inside each others hedges and soon they didn’t pay much attention to each other at all. As a result, their growth slowed and there were even stretches of the old black grass. Just as dead as it was before.

The man continued his walk. Passing near many others, he met them where they were. And for a time, they would see inside the walls they put up, but eventually they always drew apart. Sometimes they crossed again and other times he only saw them off in the distance, almost out view.

Each crossing, each look and each passing glance taught him a little more. His path was never perfect and you could barely even call it good, but it was progress. He was learning. He was maturing. He was becoming just a little wiser.