I looked up and he was right there. Little red squirrel on the path in front of me. I’ve never seen one here before. I walk that path everyday, the one that runs along the river and lets you believe for a few moments that you aren’t in the city at all. If you keep your eyes looking at the close trees and the running water through the trunks and leafy things, you can avoid seeing the apartment buildings on the other bank.
It’s forest enough for the moment, and so near downtown, but the wildlife is sparser than real forest far away from tall buildings. Even the few rabbits hide before I’m near enough to see them, and the birds are high up. Geese aren’t as shy. They abound in the spring, teaching the goslings about crossing the path coming up from the river and teaching humans about boundaries.
The squirrel stopped short the moment my eyes were on him, only two, three steps away. I might have seen him sooner if I’d been looking ahead into the dappled things of the green forest and river light. Instead, my eyes were only on the path under my feet, and my thoughts followed.
When I was little, I made a song, but I left it behind with other memories I thought I didn’t want anymore.
When you’re feeling kind of sad, don’t let it get you down
Cheer up! Look at the sky! Cheer up! Not at the ground.
The squirrel watched me watching him, but I was either boring or terrifying, and he did a funny little quick head-tip before running off down a side path.
I think I nearly miss a lot of loveliness and happiness because I’m looking at the ground. Sometimes, I’m looking down because I’m wrapped up in smogged worries, fears, and all the other silly things that get in the way and bend my neck.
When I was little, I sang that song every day. Sing-along anyone?