Walking in the Dark

Many times, at many phases of my life, I've walked in the dark.

My earliest memories of the dark are of standing outside the ferry terminal, stomping my feet to keep warm and waiting for guests to arrive in the middle of the night. Times when the northern lights were visible were always worth a trip outside, especially when the dancing green and purple sky curtains reflected off our snow-covered yard. Trick or Treating meant a dark time stroll through the neighborhood.

When I was older, I walked to school in the dark. But not pitch dark since a string of orange-yellow streetlights hummed out their droning tune.

I used to meet a friend, Tina, to walk in the dark around Harding park in later years. Then again, we always had bluish street light filtering through the trees.

In Africa, a night time walk could remind me of how different I was from those around me. Darkness should have blacked out the difference between black and white. But with my glow-in-the dark skin, I had a distinct disadvantage.

Even though I've taken all these night time walks, I've never walked in complete darkness, all alone, with no person, house or vehicle in sight.

Just me and the dark and a back country road.

Never, until last night.

(to be continued)