Street Life

Sammy stood at the start of the street, knowing that it wasn’t going to be easy. He also knew what was at the end of it, a brick wall.

Hadn’t he been told enough times? Should he walk down the street as slow as he could, meaning the inevitable dead-end would be longer in coming? He decided that was the best method, and so slowly, he put one foot in front of another.

He’d only passed a few doors down when a person came out and shouted that Sammy was going too slow. You were meant to walk at a proper speed, he was told. So Sammy speeded up. About another six houses down, another person at another door cried out that Sammy was walking too fast. He should slow down and enjoy the views. So that is what Sammy did.

Further on, one older person called to Sammy, saying he should crawl all the way because that way, the end wouldn’t hit him so hard. So that is what he did.

Then it struck Sammy that he was walking down the street of life, dictated to by others. People who had their own ways to walk. Their own speeds. Their own journeys.

So Sammy stopped, smiled, cried out to the sky and started to run at a 100-miles-an-hour down the dead-end street. So he’d crash into the wall, but boy, what a journey.

bobby stevenson 2021