Switchbacks

“No no, mi amor. This way.”

How many times did I forget? When ascending or descending the four flights of concrete stairs that connect the waterfront to town, the rule is don't walk on the stairs. What you want to do is walk the gently sloping switchbacks, and not because they’re gently sloping.

“We walk close to the flowers.”

Maybe we’d be famished dehydrated from the sail, and I’d naturally gravitate toward the shortest path between the boat and the food. Or maybe we'd be carrying a supper conversation home with us, and, my mind occupied, I'd fall in step with the herd of stairbound fudgies, positioning their distended bellies as close as possible to the Lake Michigan sunset.

“Oooh, bunny!” A whispered explanation, so as to not alarm the bunny.

“Hi little friend.”

“See?”

And now I never forget to see. I never forget.