I’ve been walking and thinking and facing life’s small and big challenges. I keep remembering this passage I wrote years ago, a passage that ended up in my memoir, The Going and Goodbye. It was the shortest chapter, but it’s one of the longest in the sense that I keep living it. Here it is once more:

The Walk Home

It wasn’t an emergency, but one morning when I still lived in Chapel Hill, after a particularly heavy snow, I had to go to the hospital for a medical appointment, the kind not easily missed and rescheduled. My friend offered to drive me in his four-wheel- drive behemoth, which I gratefully accepted. I told him I would walk the way home.

It wasn’t too far, just four miles, and I had good boots, a warm coat, and a love of the outdoors. After the appointment, I emerged from the hospital worried and fearful—not because of something said in that one appointment but because of all the trips I’d had to make there, the heavy glass doors I’d had to push, the elevator that rode up slowly, the long hallway of doors that all looked the same. And because of all the rest: the fear of trouble happening, a kind of fear that emerges when a doctor tells you that you are at a higher risk for something you don’t want to have. I was lucky because I didn’t have that something, but I remember that on that snowy day I worried that one day I would. 

Then I walked. 

I walked on the main road, out of the hospital’s reach, and past the university buildings and downtown with its brick fronts and boutiques, though that day the town lay quiet, asleep in snow. I walked and I breathed and I saw the white on roofs and driveways and trees. The branches bent down under the weight of it all. I felt the chill in my lungs, which I liked, which I craved. It reminded me of the place I was from, the cold that had made me who I was. I trudged past people’s homes, their histories hidden behind doors and shutters, some of their stories easier than mine but others so much harder than I would ever know. I walked past covered cars and blankets of lawns, past forks in the road and stoplights and stop signs. 

I could look back or look forward. I could remain or I could walk. 

So I walked and I walked, even after I turned the key and pushed open my front door, I walked on the day after, and the next and the next. 

(Photo credit: Jaunathan Gagnon, Unsplash)

UPCOMING (ONLINE) WORKSHOPS & SEMINARS

The Art of Memoir & Personal Essay: a Four-Week Workshop
Tuesdays, November 2-23, 2021 2:30-5 p.m. EST
Join me in this four-week online (Zoom) workshop during which you will generate new writing, read writing that inspires, and learn tools and techniques on the craft of personal essay and memoir writing. There are no critiques in this workshop. The goal is for you to leave with first drafts and a writer’s toolbox ready to help you finish and write the rest of your own life stories. Space is limited to 12 participants. All levels of writers welcome. No memoir experience necessary. Cost $279. Early bird registration $219 until October 20 or until spaces fill. Learn more. Register here.

Let’s Write Together!
Tuesdays at noon EST (on Zoom): October 19; November 2, 9, 16 (more dates to come)
Having a hard time finding inspiration and motivation to write? Join me for any (or all) of these online one-hour sessions on Tuesdays at noon EST. We’ll talk about a piece of writing, I will give you a prompt, and then you will WRITE. These workshops are in partnership with Press 53. Cost: $10/session. Register for any of them here.

The Nuts and Bolts of Submitting Your Work to Literary Magazines
Wednesday, December 1, 11:30 a.m.-1 p.m. EST
Are you wanting to submit your work to literary journals but feeling overwhelmed and don’t know where to start? In this online seminar, we’ll talk about how to research literary magazines, how to submit your work, how to track your submissions (for free), and what to put in (and leave out of) your bio statement. (Please note that this seminar is not focused on finding an agent or book publisher.) We’ll also leave time at the end for your questions. This seminar is in partnership with Press 53. Cost $30. Register here.

Moments that Matter: an Introduction to Flash Nonfiction
Thursday, December 9, 11:30 a.m.-1 p.m. EST
In this online workshop, we’ll talk about what flash nonfiction is, how it works, and why it works. Together we’ll mine some powerful flash pieces for effective techniques you can use in your own writing. Cost: $30. Register here.