MICAH I went out that first evening just to walk.This was habit, not restlessness or grief. At seminary, I'd walk every evening after vespers.The body needs ritual as much as the soul does. My spiritual director had told me that. Don't only pray with your mouth, Micah. Let your feet be part of it.Haloshul at dusk was a different thing than Haloshul in daylight.The neon came alive. Bars and restaurants lit up in colors. Couples walked hand in hand along the boardwalk. Groups of young men moved in loose formations, talking loudly, laughing at things I couldn't hear. I walked through it feeling pleasantly invisible in my clerical collar, the way priests often feel, we were noticed but not approached, acknowledged but not engaged, a kind of moving sacred space that people made room for without quite knowing why.I found myself on the street where we'd lived.It was not on purpose. Or maybe it was on purpose. But there I was on Calloway Street, in front of the house my father had bo
Last Updated : 2026-06-24
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