Of heartache & antiviral walks

During this period of working fully from home, I call my neighborhood walks & hikes “antiviral walks”–they keep me healthy & combat the anxiety & sadness that surge often as I live in physical isolation & read/hear news about the covid19 pandemic’s ravages around the world.

In late afternoon today I bundled up & went on an antiviral walk. Here are some observations of the day & my emotional innards.

When I feel an ache in my chest, it’s a sign that for both physical & emotional reasons, I am overdue for exercise. Movement is my best cure for sadness.

I am staying with friends in a western suburb while work is being done on my new-to-me condo in the city. Here I have access to the Great Western Trail, which used to be a railway line. It is not a beautiful trail, but it is a great place to walk, jog & bike. Some people ride horses along it–there was fresh evidence of one. And a bunny crossed my path.

Masks are comfortable in fall & winter weather–when I don’t need mine over nose & mouth, it serves as a neck warmer. I’m happy about the news that covid vaccines are on their way, & I intend to get one as soon as possible–but I’m going to keep wearing masks in public. They should help protect me from cold & flu & other viruses! And it’s fun to coordinate them with my other clothing.

I decided to walk about a mile to a Goodwill store to look for a winter cap & some gloves. Almost all my clothes are in storage right now.

I didn’t find gloves at Goodwill, but I found a cap big enough for my Goring watermelon head. And a purple scarf I can wear on Sundays during Zoom Advent services. I like wearing the colors of the liturgical season.

Sidewalks are good–I wish all streets had them. The road I walked on after turning off the trail doesn’t. On my way home I stepped into a hollow, invisible as the day darkened, & fell down. As I fell I called out a cheerful “Woooo!” as if letting a companion know that I wasn’t in danger, just playing. I wasn’t hurt. The grass was soft.

I kinda like falling occasionally because it reminds me that my body is still resilient.

Twilight is beautiful everywhere & in every season.

The friends who host me have gone all out on Christmas decorations–rather early, like many of my friends & relatives. This year we need abundant reminders of joy.

Postscript: This afternoon (day after the walk) I wanted to check my driver’s license in order to fill out a form. I became increasingly anxious as I searched everywhere, including the pockets of the coat I had worn on yesterday’s walk. Finally I realized that my wallet might have fallen out of one of said pockets when I fell on the way home.

GOOD thing about no sidewalks on that busy four-lane road: others were not likely to have walked there & picked up the wallet. Also I had received no bank alerts about suspicious credit-card use. I reminded myself of these & other consoling facts as I retraced yesterday’s route–on foot again, as there are few places to pull a car off the road & parking on it isn’t allowed.

The wallet was there, right beside a rather deep hollow in the grass (no wonder I had tripped!). I tucked it into a pocket–which I zipped shut this time–& made my way home rejoicing, meditating on the parable where God is pictured as a woman who loses a valuable coin (that’s any of us) & sweeps & searches her home until she finds it.

I am so grateful to be one of God’s treasures.

Author: ruthgoringbooks

Poet, writer of children's books, artist, editor, lover of Colombia. Poeta, escritora de libros para niñxs, artista, editora, amante de Colombia. Photo by Danielle Clark / Studio D.

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