Magic Trail

June 17th, 2011

This was his Hundred-Acre Wood. When he was a boy growing up in a city, he didn’t understand the magic of Christopher Robin’s forest retreat. It was just part of a story. Now that he was grown, with a list of responsibilities that started with kids and a business and aged parents and went from there, he not only understood that magic — he needed it.

He hit his favorite stretch of the trail and his eyes lit up, something like they used to when he first met his ex-wife, long before reality set in. They used to go for long walks or sit and read the paper, even when they had pressing business. These days, the trail was pressing business: it was booked in his Outlook calendar, four days a week, from now until the end of time. (The other day he took his senior staff out to lunch.)

His morning had been full of meetings with people who worked for him. His afternoon would be full of one big meeting with people to whom he owed lots of money. His head had been full of ideas and plans when he got out of the car, and it would be again by the time he got back to the office.

But just now his mind went blank as he kicked into stride.

Photo by Amy Palko.

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