I took a walk upon returning home from work. Strangely I couldn’t power walk because somehow I had done something wrong when I took a step earlier in the afternoon and didn’t want to increase the odd feeling in my hip. Anyway, I didn’t feel like power walking. I kept a leisurely pace and soaked in the surroundings, decompressing from work you could say. The weather was amiable. Not torrid hot. It was a cloud-speckled day.
Walking clears my mind and helps me to find my center. It relaxes me. I talk to God and carry on an internal conversation with Him. Mostly I discuss things that are dear to my heart, or I absorb the beauty of the nearby field with clusters of trees. It’s a patch of nature suburbia hasn’t touched. I often think it would be a lovely ground for a tent wedding reception, or a mid-summer’s eve dinner party complete with fireflies and watermelons.
When my parents and I lived in Arizona we would take walks after dinner after the sun set. Even in the early dark of night the heat would still radiate from the pavements. Some evenings we would ride our bikes instead.
I enjoy walking. The movements of legs and feet propelling me forward, out from the confines of the day’s duties to a few moments of solitude and contemplation. I especially enjoy it when the sky is dotted with fat, lazy clouds. It makes it seem fuller and much more vast. If I had a hammock, I would return from my walk and lay in it watching the clouds sail by until dusk turns the sky and shadows fall.