I’m walking. Pushing past protesting muscles that beg me to stop. Breathing labored and proving my sedentary tendencies.
But the sky is blue and the sun sinks into the cold place that lives inside me.
Walking hurts. Blisters form. Hamstrings shriek like sad violins out of tune. The dog drags me along—a little ox of industry, anxious to see the world as the ever exciting place it is. The hill rises slowly but challenges me still.
But walking keeps me alive. And proves that there is life beyond my four walls. And that the world is filled with freedom-seeking creatures. Birds streak across the horizon. Butterflies and bees dart in a nectar-crazed dance. Black-eyed Susans sway and nod with the breeze and smile good morning.
There is space. Life does go on despite hurt or pain. Joy is fleeting but can be known. Happiness sows its seeds and when tended can grow. I could make it grow and live. I could. I have the will…. Only a promise and not a certainty.
The calm spreads slowly and warmly like good cognac in quiet moments. So I walk…and keep walking. Eschewing thought. Worry. Sadness.
It is hard to be bitter in the sunshine. Hard to hate the world when you see it through unjudging eyes. Hard to surrender hope when your body is moving. So…I walk and keep moving. And follow the peace that lives out there.
copyright 2010
Where is Christine walking?
Anita Rodgers Mystery Writer 