Mindful Miles

I did not know the face of my own door,

A shade of blue I’d never truly seen,

Until a map confirmed what I’d ignored

That I was standing right where I had been.

How often do we walk and never look?

How many miles are passed in hurried gray?

Until the world becomes an open book,

And “home” is found in such a startling way.

Now every path is fresh, a brand-new line,

The pavements wait for stories yet untold.

The afternoon is yours, and yours, and mine,

As secrets of the neighborhood unfold.

We’re hunting “firsts” along the walk from school

A silver wing, a beetle in the grass

A sudden splash within a rainwater pool,

Counting the wonders as the moments pass.

And then, a melody across the wire,

A song of grace that caught me on the bus,

Born from a child’s heart and pure desire

To play the notes that mean the most to us.

Between the goosebumps and the quiet tears,

The miles dissolve into a single chord;

It’s not the distance covered through the years,

But how much love the journey can afford.

The key is turned, the mystery is clear,

The routes are new, but oh, the joy’s the same.

There is no room for hurry or for fear,

When every step is calling out your name.

So look again at what you think you know,

The common door, the song, the puddle’s light—For in the “firsts,” we find the room to grow,

And in the soul, we find the world is bright.