A Walk in the Park

Paula had walked around the lake after lunch for so long that she could do it almost without looking up. Her feet knew every bend, and her mind usually wandered elsewhere. On one particular afternoon, however, she noticed a narrow path she had passed a hundred times without registering it, half hidden behind a large tree. She had no pressing reason to go home, so she decided to find out where it went.

The new route was quieter than the lakeside path. There were neat flower beds, a small wooden bridge and two dogs chasing the same ball in circles. Paula stopped to take a photograph, and when she looked up the lake had vanished behind the trees. She walked a little farther, only to reach a spot where the path forked three ways with nothing to suggest which branch to follow.

Her phone was down to a few per cent, and she preferred to save the battery for emergencies rather than burn it on a map. Instead she retraced her steps to a signpost she had noticed earlier. The park plan beside a bench was clear enough, but it took her a moment to work out which way she was facing, a task that always seems simpler on paper than in a leafy place without landmarks.

Then she heard water splashing. The plan showed a fountain near the middle of the park, and she remembered seeing it on previous visits. She followed the sound, which grew louder with every turn, until the fountain appeared between the branches. From there the main path ran straight back to the lake, exactly as the map had promised.

In the end she had hardly strayed from where she began. Paula sat by the water for a few minutes and looked back at the route she had just taken, which no longer seemed unknown or threatening. The following weekend she returned with her sister to show her the bridge, leading the way this time with complete confidence. She knew perfectly well where she was going, for she had once been lost there.