8. Thoughts (cont.)

And then I thought about the fact that I was always thinking. My head chock full of thoughts every waking moment . . . and full of dreams when I slept. I was either making up stories or thinking about the way the late September breeze felt, soft against my cheek, or about being careful not to step on any of the cracks in the sidewalk. Or I was thinking about what we did in school or what I was going to do when I got home or about needing to pee and whether I was going to be able to wait until I got all the way home or if I’d need to go in the high grass alongside the piles of coal dumped along the mill tracks. Sometimes I’d done that before.

I was thinking about the yellow dog I could see, limping across the street in front of me, and wondering how his leg got hurt. Or I was thinking about how long the walk was and that one of my shoes was rubbing my heel.

Every minute of every day, from morning to night . . . thinking.

And then came a flash of insight so overwhelming that it stopped me stone still in the middle of the sidewalk. Something I’d never thought before. Other people are thinking, too! Every single minute, thoughts running through their heads like a radio that couldn’t be turned off, just the way they did with me.