I like to walk, especially in the early mornings or early evenings. I try to change it up, to not take the same path every day. Usually I bring my little 16-pounds-of-fury with me for company, but this week he decided to take a vacay with grandma so it’s just me. Alone.
Sometimes my kids walk with me. Used to walk with me, I should say. Now, with one in college and one with a broken leg, I’m usually on my own. It’s ok, though – for me, walking is meditation. Time to clear the monkey mind that’s developed after a day of teaching and simply get back to center. Alone.
Often I walk onto campus to see what’s going on. It kinda is like I never left college – I love seeing the towering buildings with kids spilling in and out. I wonder what they’ve read the night before, and how the professor will excite their brains. I smile when I see a crowd waiting for a midterm to begin, blue books or scantrons in hand. I remember that anxiety well.
Last night I walked with a teacher-mom friend, a woman just like me, going through the changes of a child in college and a teenager at home. We talked about the emptiness of a house with only one left, and how sad and lonely and strange it sometimes feels to be at home now. Alone.
Some things we cannot change. Some things we just need to trust are working out exactly as they are supposed to, even when they don’t feel that way in the moment. Some things, I know, the Universe has put in front of me for a very good reason, requiring me to pause, and think, and feel, and take a very long walk. Alone.