Twenty-nine days already seems like a long time to do something. There are some days when I. Just. Don't. Want. To. There are other days when I am pleased that I have committed to something, like walking the dogs, and really enjoy the time I spend with them. This happens more often when I walk them in the early evening. The light is absolutely beautiful this time of day. Everything is literally rose-tinted by the setting sun. I find myself noticing the beauty in the finite details of our walks, such as the careful placement of stepping stones in a lawn or the crunching of dry leaves on the sidewalk. I feel so relaxed and at peace.
When I begin to analyze my thoughts - probably not a very peace invoking activity - the hokey-ness of them makes me want to gag a little. I think about and take in my surroundings with the same blind optimism of young love. I adopt the belief, during our short little walks, that the world, in all of its warm, glowing, soft glory is a wondrous place that we take for granted. I mean, it is, but I think I get a little carried away.
I do truly appreciate however that I have taken more notice of my surroundings. I feel as though I have rediscovered my neighborhood and at the same time, am discovering it for the first time. It is reassuring that ten years in the same city has not made me love it any less.
And even as I approach home - my not so rosy, but rather dusty, cluttered, ant infested reality - I do so with a laugh, thanks to my dear, dear Bugsy.
No comments:
Post a Comment