A Morning Walk

I went for a walk with a couple of friends while I was in WV. I got up about 6:00, and started down the lane enjoying the fresh day. I breathed in the smells so deeply, fresh earth, wet grass, a horsey sort of odor...if I closed my eyes and smelled it now I would know right where I was. Then along came my ten year old friend. She was walking to school. She could have ridden the bus, but some mornings she likes to walk there. It's only about a mile to the school, and all of the neighbors know her and her family, so it is really quite safe. She was leaving her grandparents house after breakfast and a quick visit. Whiskers, the dog on their porch, was watching as she left, yearning to join this young, happy friend. As we walked along, thinking our own thoughts and listening to the morning sounds, my buddy took off. As she ran ahead, my mind raced backward. I started noticing the changes that had occured since I walked that way before. Several places have been "let go" and grown up or started falling down. I remembered the lot that was always kept so neatly, the neighbors' workshop where my grandmother met in winter to reupholster furniture, the yard that the crazy lady mowed in her bra... As I took the curve at the bottom of the hill, another friend was out jogging. I joined her for a bit, huffing and puffing to keep up. She was 16 not too long ago, and today she would march with the graduates in the parade. She was out jogging so early to get her day started right. She thought she had a few more pounds to lose on her 5 foot 7 frame..she weighs all of 103 pounds. The early morning air seemed to clear her mind, and she said she liked to talk to God on her jogs. She liked smelling the honeysuckle and peonies in the morning air. Someone had recently mowed hay, and the smell was sweet and clean. The birds were singing to each other, and the chipmunks were racing past on the road. I tried to slow her down, to say that a walk would be more meditative, but she had weight to lose and left me in the dust. Maybe when she is 40, I thought, she might slow down for a walk. That was when I saw the little girl again. She was barefoot, standing in the middle of a tar patch on the road. I suddenly remembered the feel of a tar patch, and removed my shoes as well. Tar patches are as soft as moleskin, and when a day is warm enough, you can pop little bubbles with your toes. It makes a terrible mess, and actually stays there most of the summer (since you do it often), but there isn't much that can compare. We couldn't stay there too long, my young friend had to get to the parade route for the festivities, and I had to get back home and start up my crew. As I walked back home, I mused over the surroundings. The land is hilly, of course, and the road winds and curves through the hills. Each hill and curve holds a surprise just beyond. Some surprises are sweet like honeysuckle, and some are as horrid as a dead opossum in the road, but if you notice the smells and sounds more, and even enjoy the tar patches, the dead opossums are quickly passed by...and the beauty that is yours to enjoy is so much greater than the little horrid spots. I hope my young friends always remember that.