thoughts from a morning walk

Yukta Parikh
September 26, 2025

So I went on a walk a couple of weeks ago on a Monday morning, and somehow it was healing? Or maybe I just really needed a walk because I was on the brink of a crashout. Either way, the walk brought me back to myself. And we all need something to bring us back to ourselves from time to time. When I came back from the walk, I opened my laptop and began to write. And then I kept writing, and so now you get to read what I was writing. Enjoy :)

Being outside in the sunlight first thing in the morning is good for you. So I force myself to put my hokas on and step outside. It’s 7 am. I’ve been awake since 5 am, twisting and turning from the anxiety in my chest. The walk is my medication.

It’s a quiet Monday morning. I see cars drive past and a handful of people waiting for the bus. The weather is cool and the sun is out, just what I needed. I cross the street to the park. I follow the winding trail that mimics my winding thoughts.

Thoughts flow through my mind, sifting like sand. I think of what I need to make for dinner, and that I should probably buy a hat for my Denver trip. I think of why my mom hates me so much, and the reading I need to do after work for my upcoming class. All while putting one foot in front of the other.

It’s going perfectly well until Teenage Dream by Olivia Rodrigo plays next on Spotify. I haven’t been a teenager in a while, but I was 19 again, still wondering why my mom hates me so much. I think a part of me will always be 19 and angry. Yet they all say it gets better, but what if I don’t? And I fear she [my mother] already got all the best parts of me. I tell myself to keep walking and let the thoughts go.

So I keep walking, I pass people walking their dogs and getting their own morning walks in. I take a breath in and release it into the trees. I let myself feel the sun on my face and the cool air on my fingers. I tell myself I’m still here, I’m still me, and I’m choosing myself this morning.

But the sifting thoughts come back around. Now I’m thinking about how my parents think I would be nothing without them and what tasks I’ll need to work on when I sit down at my desk. Am I nothing without them, or is it that they had nothing to do with who I am now? Will I have a lot of emails waiting for me? Is the reading for class going to be long? Will my mom call me today and pretend like she didn’t yell at me over the phone yesterday? When is my credit card bill due again?

Now I’m letting the thoughts go again. I am okay, I’m still here, and I’m on this walk. I look down at my feet and put one foot in front of the other. I pass the man-made beach, the water had been emptied after Labor Day. Now it’s just sand, grass, and standing water. The change in the season is around the corner; change is always around the corner.

I pass trees and birds, squirrels and bees, and cute dogs. I remember that I wrote one sentence in my journal and burst into tears the night before. But now it’s the morning, and I’m not crying anymore. I feel the sun on my face as I walk past my apartment and to the grocery store. I look up at the branches full of leaves that will be gone in a few weeks. Nothing stays the same. Tears dry like the ink in my journals, and leaves fall to the ground. The day will end, and the next one will be waiting to start anew. Maybe I’ll start anew, too, after this morning.

As I return from the grocery store, I get the realization that I’m living a life that I created. I created a life that I dreamed about and hoped for when I was 19. So, maybe everything really is okay, and it is enough that I’m still here.