The long way home

Most evenings I take the same route home. It is quick and I could walk it with my eyes closed. A few weeks ago, without really deciding to, I turned down a different road, and I have taken the long way ever since.

It adds about fifteen minutes. In that time I pass a small tea stall where the same old man is always arranging glasses, a park where children argue happily about the rules of a game, and a wall covered in faded posters that nobody seems to remove. None of it is special. All of it is alive.

I think I needed the detour more than the scenery. The short route was the workday still going on in my head. The long one gives my mind room to slow down and sort itself out. By the time I reach my door, the day has settled and I am more present for the people inside.

It made me wonder how many other fast routes I take out of habit. Efficiency is useful, but it is not always the goal. Some things are worth doing slowly, even when a quicker way is available.

I am not saying everyone should walk further. I am saying that if your days feel like a blur, try changing one small route and see what you notice. For me, it was fifteen minutes and a better evening.