When I was a child, there was something my parents did during the summer that made absolutely no sense to me.

They went for a walk.

That was it.

Two or three evenings a week, usually around eight or nine, after work was finished, after dinner, when the heat of the summer day had finally begun to disappear, they would leave the house and walk for twenty or thirty minutes.

I remember wondering why.

Where were they going?

Nowhere, apparently.

There was no store they needed to visit. No friend waiting for them. No particular destination. They simply walked around for a while and came home.

To the child I was, this seemed completely pointless.

Children usually want a reason for going somewhere. A playground. Ice cream. A friend’s house. Something waiting at the end.

Walking just for the sake of walking?

Why would anyone do that?

Many years later, I finally understand.

Of course, I understand the practical part. A little movement after dinner is good for us. Twenty or thirty minutes outside before settling down for the night is certainly better than sitting on the couch.

But I don’t think that was the most important part of those walks.

My parents weren’t really going somewhere.

They were going somewhere together.

For those twenty or thirty minutes, they weren’t only Mom and Dad.

They weren’t thinking about work, preparing dinner, taking care of children, cleaning the house, paying bills, or doing the hundred little things that fill an adult day.

They were simply husband and wife.

Two people stepping into a warm summer evening together.

Maybe they talked about something important. Maybe they talked about absolutely nothing. Maybe sometimes they walked quietly. Perhaps they held hands.

I don’t know.

I was at home.

I was only the child who watched them leave and wondered what possible reason two grown-ups could have for walking around the neighborhood with nowhere to go.

Now I know.

Sometimes the person beside you is the destination.

And if I have to be honest, I envy them a little.

Not because their life was perfect. It wasn’t.

I envy their understanding that in the middle of everything life asks from us, twenty quiet minutes together can matter.

It is strange how childhood memories work.

Nothing about this one has changed. The summer evening is the same. The walk is the same. My parents are the same two people disappearing down the street.

Only I have changed.

And finally, all these years later, I understand where they were going.

GK

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Published by georgi.kisyov

15 thoughts on “The Walk I Never Understood”

  1. Beautiful thoughts Georgi! Relationships are built in the minutes that look like they are accomplishing absolutely nothing. We tend to measure time by productivity—what got finished, fixed, purchased, cleaned, or crossed off the list. Yet those seemingly unproductive minutes may have been doing some of the most important work of all. There is something beautiful about a relationship that does not always need an agenda or destination; sometimes closeness itself is the purpose. Perhaps some of the most valuable time we ever spend with those we love—or with God—is the time when we are not trying to get anywhere at all.

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    1. Thank you so much for this beautiful reflection. I especially love your thought that those seemingly unproductive minutes may actually be doing some of the most important work of all. We spend so much of life trying to accomplish something, yet sometimes simply being present with someone we love is enough.
      GK

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    1. Exactly! As I’ve grown older, I’ve realized that the walk gives us more than one gift—the movement is good for the body, but that quiet time together is good for the relationship too. Sometimes the simplest routines become the most valuable ones.
      GK

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  4. A sweet piece of writing, it holds the realisation of growing up that sometimes it really isn’t the destination that matters, but the journey. The moments and the memories you gain from it.

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    1. Thank you so much. I think that is exactly what I understand now in a way I couldn’t as a child. Sometimes there doesn’t need to be a destination at all—the person walking beside you and the moments you share along the way are enough.
      GK

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  7. I believe they were wise beyond their years. Those 30 minutes rejuvenated revived drew them together as husband and wife, not just parents.

    That’s an important distinction. An opportunity tether together, an us against the world moment, a united moment, a moment only we share.

    Personally I believe it is vital to a strong marriage, union, love, affection. Im touched you saw and held the moment in your memory without rancour. Or feeling dismissed or less than as a child because they chose themselves fir that fleeting moment in time.

    One day the child will be gone. It will be only the two parents…and so many times so much effort went into making children the priority that once they leave a marriage falls apart, or managed to grow sbd survive. Either way. Ive witnessed parents lose themselves and wonder who they are because their life was their child.

    I also believe its important for children to realize they are valued loved cared for but that they aren’t the everything. It diminishes the entitlement factor knowing their place.

    I love this for you. It’s a beautiful moment truly.

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    1. Thank you for such a thoughtful reflection. I think you understood something very important in this memory: for those few minutes, they chose to be husband and wife, not only parents. As a child I couldn’t see the value in that, but now I understand how important it is to protect a little space for the relationship itself. Perhaps that was one of the quiet lessons they gave me without ever trying to teach it.
      GK

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