Monday, September 28, 2015
Hello there, friend,
When my daughter was first born, we spent an hour every day walking, just to pass the time. It was late spring in Alabama and the days were swelling with heat, but I was diligent. Every day, three miles. I always loved the time to let my mind wander, to slip in and out of focus. When my husband walked with us, we talked often of the future and our dream of moving back north.
A month ago I started walking again, which is kind of laughable because my new town is anything but walkable. The sidewalks stretch through one slim part of town, maybe a mile and a half, and around the block where it, fortunately, passes right by my house. I've walked every square inch of sidewalk and then some, sometimes alone, sometimes with a companion.
It's becoming my favorite part of the day. I step out the door and away from being mom and wife and employee. I have a chance to think and breathe and move my body. I remember listening Mary Oliver speak of her own walking and how deeply it intersected with her writing, and I think about how the simple act of moving my body fuels my own creativity, how being alive and breathing the fresh air enlivens my spirit. Just a step out the door, and I am renewed. Praise be.