Keep Walking

For the past couple of years I've grown to love walking.  I put in my earbuds, strap on my fanny pack (yes, they're cool because I make them so), and walk.  I've discovered various paths around my neighborhood and walk for hours sometimes.  It helps my brain reconfigure after a long day of work, before a long day of work, or to calm a hangover or a heavy meal on the weekends.  Zero negativity associated with it.

There are times when I begin a walk full of anxiety over work or the craziness of my schedule, but by the time I'm on the second song, I find joy in it. I often get hit by a memory or two of my younger days and I allow my mind to drift with the thoughts. I often don't have anything specific to remember about these walks, just a feeling of something greater than me.  

I remember walking on a cold November day, bundled up with my phone on shuffle - - sometimes it was Bruce playing, sometimes it was J. Roddy Walston & the Business, sometimes something else. . . but on this particular day I heard one Sinatra song, then another, and close to the end of the second I thought, "Hm, Dad must be here.  Wonder if I'll hear another."  Indeed another played, and I said (in my head) "Hi Dad," feeling elated that he was in step with me.  I allowed my mind to drift with some memories of him & I, but of course they were interrupted by other thoughts, and so I tried to focus again on having my dad beside me.  I didn't hear Sinatra for a while, so I thought about something really unlikely - seeing a flower in the grass on a cold November day - and thought that if I saw that, I'd know he was still with me.  So I walked, and I scanned the grass all around me for about 30 minutes - meandering through thoughts about the kids, my life, my face, my siblings. . . but didn't see a flower.

I continued to walk, and was a bit bummed as I made my way down the path toward my house.  I started to think about what I would make for dinner, and how I would fold and put away laundry.  As I stepped onto the sidewalk near my house, I looked down and saw a yellow dandelion standing straight up in the grass.  I smiled.  The song on my phone ended and Sinatra's My Way began.

Yes, of course I cried.  

That's stuff's magical. 

I set out for walks daily, never knowing what gem I might discover ---- even if it's a smile or a friendly greeting from a golden retriever.  

The nuggets of joy that are available to us daily astounds me.  Unfortunately, sometimes they elude me too.  But I know for certain that they are there --- ready to be plucked and dried in a heavy book, like a dandelion found on a cold November day.