It took us 28 Minutes and 32 seconds to walk the 3/4 mile to “school” this morning. Now that we’re walking daily, Landon likes to run to school instead of riding in the stroller. I used to push the double stroller in case he got tired, but he has run the full stretch every day for a couple weeks, so now I just push Cassadee in the single.
The last few days he has been very interested in the surroundings on our walk. Stopping frequently to point out what he sees, often screeching to a halt with no warning, in front of the stroller. Today I actually clipped his foot before I could fully stop… down he went. Full frontal layout on the concrete. He didn’t cry.
It took me 11 minutes and 23 seconds to walk back by myself after drop off. I walk fast. Everywhere, all the time. Even if I don’t have a tight timeframe, I hustle. I never saunter if I can help it. I’m sure that concept could be deeply unpacked by a therapist, but I won’t go there right now.
Needless to say, I wasn’t particularly amused or charmed by our slow walk, full of wonder.
On our route to school there lives an older couple. Early 60’s. They run every day with their two Vizsula dogs (high energy). On my walk TO daycare, we see the man, running his dogs with a harness around his waist tied to the pups. He clearly gets a kick out of Landon. Every morning he waives… says “hey buddy!” To this kid he doesn’t know. Yet, he does. He sees the carefree abandon at which he runs daily. Maybe he might catch that moment Landon stops to point out a cat, or a flower or a spiderweb. Maybe only hears the phrase “look momma, those dogs are running!” Maybe that’s all that matters.
Every morning when I walk home, I see the same dogs, but with their momma harnessed at the waist. The dogs get two runs every morning. First dad, then mom. What a life. She sees a very different picture.
She sees me; walking, at a fast clip, home with an empty stroller. Half the time I’m sending a Marco Polo video to my friends. “Hey friends, yet another shoutout from my walk home. Landon was extra today. I actually hit him with the stroller. Oh look, there is that lady that probably thinks I’m crazy.”
Like legit, crazy. But she doesn’t know that sometimes that walk home is my favorite moment of the day. I’ve not yet dove into the complication of my job, but I’ve shed the children that encompass my constricted soul. I’m free, walking at a fast pace, listening to my own music, dissecting my own thoughts without interruption.
I find myself wondering if they compare notes.
He, the story of the cutest kid – running breakneck speed to the next adventure. His wild, curly white hair untamed; his laughter and wonder unashamed. Her – the mystery of the girl alone, with an empty stroller, clearly enthralled with her phone. So much that she talks to herself. Why is she like this?
Who do they think I am?