I’ve always spent a lot of time at our Peninsula here on this Great Lake, and so going there to “blow the stink off,” as my Nana always said, is a natural reflex for me during this time of social isolation.
What’s surprising is the way we walk past each other with our guard up… swerving a bit as if to say, “there you go… there’s your six feet.”
We’re just generally… shyer with each other, aren’t we?
And because so many people are mainly staying at home, the other surprise is the QUIET. It’s that kind of quiet that you normally only hear on these paths during the winter months. Deep and thick with beauty and mystery. You hear your own breath and every sound that the trees and land around you have to offer, from subtle crackling of leaves to the bird calls beckoning from the summer that is still to come.
I don’t like why this gift has presented itself, but I will not turn this gift away.
When I’m walking along the lapping shore, I no longer bother with headphones and podcasts. When I’m walking, I’m no longer aiming to go faster and cover more ground.
When I’m walking, I’m just walking.