Maps

You moved to a new city and fell in love. With the city, with your new self. Life felt bigger with possibility.

You didn’t know anyone in this new city, but you saw in that potential instead of loneliness.

You started walking. As exercise, and as way of enjoying the weather, and as a kind of meditation, and as a way of seeing and learning your new town.

You walked up and down your block, neighboring blocks. Around and around and around your neighborhood.

You started drawing your walks. As record-keeping, and as way of making your life a little more organized, and as a kind of diary, and as way of seeing and learning your new town even more.

One day, by the waterfront, you saw a seal in the water, so you added a seal to your map of the city. Another day, you laid down in the grass and took a nap in the sun, so you added a bed to your drawing of the park.

You found a trail through the woods, away from the waterfront. Hiking that instead of the sidewalk up the giant incline, you found yourself near your home atop the hill in a quarter of the time. On your map, you drew a spiral at the entrance to the trail. Next to the spiral, you wrote, “Wormhole.”

Later, you’d wonder if walking that trail, finding that “wormhole,” transported you to a parallel universe of your city, or made you more open to discovering this city’s magic, or if the timing was just coincidence.

You found a tree that, when you climbed, would take you all the way up into the clouds, opening up into a view of the entire city. You found a park bench that, when you sat on it, no time passed no matter how long you sat there. You found a swingset in a different park that, when swinging, could place you at any moment in your life, watching everything play out in front of you as if watching a movie.

One day, you met a woman. You mentioned your map of the city and her eyes lit up. She asked you to tell her more.

You told her more.

You two went on a walk together and you showed her one of the magic spots and she asked if you two could do that again. Another day, another walk, another magic spot.

You kept going on walks together, exploring the city.

Tomorrow, you’ll go on another, to a place beyond what is currently mapped. You’ll discover whatever there is to discover there together.

Aaron Burch is, among other things, the editor of Short Story, Long and HAD and the author of Year of the Buffalo and A Kind of In-Between.