I'd been feeling an odd calm lately, different from all the other times I had returned from the long walks. The precious memories and fine acquaintances left behind had me lonely. I would not trade the friends and sights for the mixed emotions that troubled me. This time I feel no sadness for loss but a calm joy at recalling the richness of the path, the people, the fleeting sunsets.
A wind blew a piece of paper along the sidewalk in front of me. It was a free flier that had blown from a restaurant up-wind, covered with advertisements surrounding a column of local events with a few stories one paragraph in length. As I was about to crumble it and toss it in the trash I noticed a quote. Upon reading it I noticed it was from the Author of "Walden Pond". It seemed to compliment the warm feelings I have begun to realize... " I am no more lonely than a single mullein or dandelion in a pasture,
or a bean leaf, or sorrel, or a horse-fly, or a bumble-bee.
I am no more lonely than the Mill Brook, or a weathercock, or the north star,
or the south wind,
or an April shower,
or a January thaw,
or the first spider in a new house.
Henry David Thoreau