Walking
Went for a long walk yesterday. Five miles. It’s the nicest thing about my small town. I can walk out my door, go through the Johnson Settlement Park, get into town, turn right on Avenue F, and before you know it, I’m in the hills south of town. And that turn, onto Avenue F, is less than a mile from my house. That feels pretty sweet, and rural.
At the city’s limit, Avenue F becomes Miller Creek Loop. At the 2.5 mile mark, my turn-around point, the road makes a sharp right. I think I’m going to head down it the next time I go out. Push the boundaries. I want to see what’s down there. On foot. I know what it looks like from a car. Country. But on foot, while the land is still country, it feels more personal. You see the flowers, and the gnarled trees, and every once in a while, a deer will spook.
Another thing you see along the way are drivers. Most of them will slow down as they pass and raise a finger in salute. Heck, they even do it to me as I walk around the center of town. I like that little bit of recognition, a neighbor saying hello to another neighbor. I get the feeling that if they thought I was in trouble they’d stop and ask if I needed help. That’s a comfort. Of course, it’s obvious I’m an old white man but I’d like to think they’d stop and help no matter who was in trouble. Because that’s what neighbors do, and I like to think well of people.