To Take a Walk - Part III

For seven years running, I have taken a particular walk weekly, if not more.  The kids' preschool is less than a mile from our house, and with only two days left for June, I'm getting a little sentimental about that walk.

Most of the time, June and John enjoy the double stroller.  I love the way they sit with their little bodies so relaxed, their little hands resting still on their legs.  Do adults do that?  It seems rare.

Clara preferred the scooter or the wagon.  Will liked to walk (slowly!) or bike, with training wheels.  In the Will and Clara days, the walk seemed longer.   In fact, on the way home, we made two separate snack stops at two separate trees.  These days, with only one child to go, the walk feels short.

The journey has many landmarks:

• the hide-and-seek bushes, 
• the apple trees, 
• the station where you "fill up" your bikes, 
• the raspberry bushes,
• the yard with the scary dogs
• the bird-feeder house
• the super-long block
• the "school park"

It's amazing how that walk feels like an extension of our home.  And through the kids' eyes, we don't miss a thing.

To Take a Walk - Part II

Spurred by the need to release a mouse from its trap, we recently took a family walk in the rain.  Despite the kids' insistence that we walk at least two miles so the mouse wouldn't find its way back, we decided that the nearest ice cream store would do.  Highlights of the walk included:

• The fact that upon its release, the mouse still had a pulse.
• The broken umbrellas
• Ensuring the umbrellas had personal space
• The raincoats
• The rain (It's Boulder, after all.)
• The ice cream
• John's purple hat

To Take a Walk - Part I

Clara and John and I recently took a walk.  It was so beautiful, I was swept up with the feeling that a daily walk is the answer to all my woes.  (Correction.  I am reading "Half the Sky" and I cannot sit with claiming any real woes.)

I remember having similar epiphanies at various (younger) stages in life:

• "All I want in life is to live in a place where I can go cross country skiing every day!"
• "If I can just wake up outside every morning of my life, or at least with my face in an open window, I will be a happy person."

In the days that followed, I secretly took a walk every day and recorded something about each one.  Then I planned to take pictures of every walk and put it in a book with all the uplifting thoughts that came along the way.  (Very interesting reading, I'm sure.  Not repetitive at all!)  OK - so that lasted maybe six days.  Then the weather got cold.

I still feel inspired to share a little bit about my recent walks, an unfettered indulgence I can do here.  I still feel like I'm a happier person every time I fit a walk into my day, but I'm dropping my daily photos, "deep thoughts," and strict regimen that potentially squeeze out the joy.

Anyway, here is the first in a (brief) series.  That first walk with Clara and John really was transporting.  We walked in the spring snow, in the mountains, in the quiet, with birds and trees and a stream and the mountain air.  I wouldn't mind taking that walk, with that company, for all of my days to come.

Home?

John's 24-hour talk lately reflects our busy days and our string of visitors:

• Daddy?  Home?
• June?  Home?
• Woa?  Home?
• LaLa? Home?
• Papa Tarl? Home?
• Kylar?  Home?
• Gimme?  Home?

His people are his world.  And he recognizes that there is a lot of coming and going.  Even last night, in the middle of the night, he startled and said "Everbody - Home?"