I Walk Along Red Maple

"I want to go for a walk," says I to myself as I walk toward my car, by-pass my car and begin to walk, for myself, as reward for a day's hard work, for the invitation comes in the form of a breezy Wednesday afternoon, when the wind is gentle, the clouds stretch across the sky in horizontal layers, in harmony with the hydro lines that dip and stretch into the distance like music.

Red Maple is a recent urban development. The community centre resembles lego bricks. Further down the street is a community of townhomes and semi-detached homes, each of a slightly different design, so that the houses seem to change colour as walk along, like browsing in an ice-cream store. I see bricks red like cherry. The houses are very touchable too, yes, touchable, as if I can take out a brick to feel its cakey texture before putting it back in, or pick up the entire house with my fingertips, take this red cherry house for example, swap it with that minty house with the green roof, add white fences to make a front porch around the bay window, and watch the row of houses in fluid motion before me. It feels so easy.

Near the end of my walk I pass by Leisure World, a three-level home for seniors. On each of the higher levels, at the corner closest to the sidewalk, there is an open alcove, windowless, entirely exposed to the outside like a spacious protected balcony. But on this day these open alcoves are empty. An old woman looks out from her third-floor room. She waves her hand. To me? I don't know. But I wave back anyways, while keeping a jaunty and carefree pace, I walk on. For a split second I feel so free. The home is a dainty residential complex. It resembles lego bricks. The alcoves are vacant. All the windows are closed.