Walking Disorder

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Commentary

Let’s see if I can explain this one to you as successfully as I explained it to my wife….

I think most of us heard this little rhyme sometime in our youth: “Step on a crack, break your mother’s back.” Of course that’s superstitious nonsense. But for some reason, it sticks in my head all these years later. It’s an intrusive thought that needles me every time I stroll down a city sidewalk. I can be listening to a narration of George MacDonald, or C. S. Lewis, or Dostoevsky. My head can be in the clouds, but my eyes don’t miss those cracks, and I’m repeatedly tempted to adjust my pace to match their spacing.

I wish I were free of this nonsense. I wish I were on a mountain path, where the disorder of roots and rocks may fix my attention, but more in the way of a friendly conversation with companions. I’d gladly go that way. I’d gladly submit to the slight difficulty they impose. There, I’d gladly undergo.