a walk of one's own

At the tender age of 21, I had lived in Brooklyn with Mike for nearly a year when I took my first car ride through the neighborhood. I can't remember whose car I was in, but the vision of the buildings lining Fourth Avenue racing past from behind car windows was completely arresting. I hardly recognized it from that strange perspective!

I prefer life on foot - the scale and intimacy are more my speed. The feel of the wind and sun on my face clears out the inner muck. Arriving at my destination becomes an accomplishment. It grieves me that we spend as much time in the car as we do in our Maryland lives. Every day I drive over the Eastport bridge to pick up Frances from school and I watch the joggers and dog-walkers and tourists with a terribly envious heart. Sitting in traffic, I begin to suffer unproductive fits of the-grass-is-always-greener. I must tell you, they are not pretty, those internal what-if and why-not monologues of mine.

But yesterday I set that aside. It was a rare day in that I was able to leave early to pick up Frances, and Gabriel was still at his day care. I parked at her school, left everything in the car, and I walked. Fast. By myself!

The blue water and open sky, the warm sun, and the elemental satisfaction of moving within them melted the stress of escalating sibling rivalry at home, unfinished Halloween costumes, work to do, dinner to scrounge.

Life with children involves a lot of compromise, sacrifice even. Accepting that and finding the joy within the ever-shifting confines of family life can be a challenge for me sometimes.

But yesterday, I took a walk, and that was good enough. The limitations of my life helped me to see it for what it was - a gift.