The wet gravel shifts under-foot making what was to be quiet walk, quite loud, adding to the chatter in my head. I am overwhelmed. Counting on the mental health benefits of movement-I walk. I pray too, while I walk. On this cold, drizzly first day of March, I stuff my hands into my fleece jacket, lower my chin, and raise my shoulders to my ears to buffet against the wind. I walk alone.
His hand slipped into mine and we darted off the sidewalk and into the street to get past the tourists who were walking three by three, shoulder to shoulder making it impossible to walk around them. It was our summer game. How long could we maintain our walking speed without tourists' obstructing our path? And what was the fastest way around them? Together we zigged. We zagged. Sometimes hand in hand and other times we would traverse separate routes to see who would emerge from the crowd first. Heads tipped back, our laughter drifted toward the strangers we left behind; our path clear ahead.
Today I walk alone in fog and heavy drizzle; the rain pools on the side of the road. March means mud. Soon the tourists will return in throngs-that will not change. What will change is that I will dodge the summer masses alone. My husband's rough hand in mine leading me, guiding me, only a memory as I face life's obstacles, without him. I am overwhelmed.
10 comments:
Beautifully written. My heart is with you.
Thank you for sharing. Beautiful imagery and so touching.
Incredibly beautiful words to describe an unimaginable newness that hurts to even think about.
Wow, Barbara... You packed a lot into those three paragraphs! Your words paint a very clear picture and the emotions pop right out at the audience. Very nice!
I thank you all for taking the time to read. This has been quite a journey of self-discovery. It is beyond hard at times though.
Very poignant! I continue to be touched by your memories and the raw feelings that your writing evokes. Thank you for continuing to share your journey.
This is a perfect example of why I love your writing so much. The whole entire time I read anything you write I feel as though I am there with you. This touched my heart in many ways. Although your memory of Uncle Jerry pained, it brought great joy and I really appreciated how it balanced your walk alone that day. It also reminded me, as it should you, that really, he would never ever let you walk alone. He will forever be with you walking that noisy gravel path or dodging those tourists walking arm to arm. I love you.
Thank you Erin. Your reaction to this piece helps me to know that I have touching people, that Uncle Jerry touched people. Thank you for visiting, reading and commenting. It means so much to me.
A stunning slice of life. I feel the drizzle and the determination.
Mary Ann, Thank you so much for stopping into my blog to read and respond. I feel a connection with you, that mutual understanding for something so very hard to understand and explain.
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