Taking A Walk

I am a very speedy walker, always have been. It may have been the deep and abiding anxiety that lived in my body for the first 55 years of my life that prompted it. I couldn't say but it is how I am built now. I frequently find myself 10 or so steps ahead of that man of mine, who ambles in the best of times, but who often limps in pain or discomfort. The years of misuse, his own and others, on that big ole body of his is letting itself known especially in the knees and feet. I have a hard time slowing my pace.

Lately, I have been starting my day at the Willamette River, with my back facing east and watching the sunrise on the yonder shore and upon the lavish homes that grace the western river front. It is tranquil and peaceful most mornings and is a beautiful place for me to read or write.

Seeing a lot of the same people walking trail each day, I take comfort in the familiarity. The past month I have watched a gal walking her very old companion. Today I finally stopped her to ask about their walks.

Her companion, Ginny, is a 14 year old rescue of unknown descent. A short haired, multicolored, happy girl that no longer reaches the speed of ambling. Perhaps shuffle would be a good description and, yet, she still wants to go out every single day. Slowly they take their short journey, Mom never rushing or seeming frustrated but taking the opportunity to see the beauty around her and enjoying the time she has with Ginny

My mind knows this is a worthy lesson I could learn. I know I should slow down a bit and walk beside the Boy Scout instead of out in front. I need to unwind my internal energizer bunny, take a deep breath, and enjoy the journey by his side, at his speed.

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