Walking and writing, two of my mostly daily activities, have serendipitously woven themselves together. I didn't notice this until a couple of weeks ago when I was tagged by Janet Fitch to take part in a #pollyanafest. The rules were you had to post 3 things every day on Facebook that delighted you, made you smile, were positive in general. Shying away from being dumped with buckets of ice water I decided to give this a try. It wasn't too difficult, although some of the delights were, I thought, minor and personal, but nonetheless positive. As the week went on I found myself drawing in the people I met as I walked in the park most mornings as positives. I began writing longer pieces about these people and how I felt in reaction to meeting them or observing them. When the commitment ended, I continued to write, almost exclusively about the people in the park and adding my own spin on the observations I made. One day I posted that I should write a book. I certainly had enough material for a series of essays. Today I revised that further. Maybe a book some day, but for now, a blog. Every day when I walk through the park I look for what I can write about and it usually appears. Take today as an example:
Not too far into my walk today I hear runners behind me. I stay the course and a mother and daughter jog by, blond pony tails like rear windshield wipers swaying through the air. I begin to form an opinion about the ten year old who follows her mom, each with the trail of white cable flowing from their ears. Then I hear running behind me. Not jogging, but racing. I wonder who is trying to catch up. Another child about eight runs passed. The mother turns around and says, "They won't stay on they're paper and tape," and continues jogging. This daughter, also with a trail of white cable, removes the ear bud from her ear and yells, "What?" The mother doesn't turn. The young girl shouts, "What did you say?" I want to tell her as I begin to steadily get closer, but instinctively the mother turns, takes out one of her ear buds and repeats it. "Charlie, they won't stay on, they're paper and tape." The three stop ahead of me, just off the path. I look at Charlie's feet and see four carefully placed paper angel wings sticking out from the sides of her shoes. The family continues on, as do I, and I'm chuckling at the creativity as well as shaking my head at the mother's comments that don't exactly encourage that path less taken.
When I return from the top of the park the trio are just ahead of me, the mother trying to enthusiastically coach her daughters in, I hear her say, "cool down methods". I search for Charlie's wings, and they are gone. I hoped I would cross Charlie's path before she left the park and my hope came true. They had stopped in front of the bathroom and I was passing at the right time. "Good morning," I say to the mother who smiles and replies "good morning" . The two daughters are standing in front of me. "Good morning," I say, "I liked your wings." The girls smile and I hear the mother say as I continue to walk, "They were just paper." She didn't understand, I could tell. I turn and side-step walk and say, "Oh, but they make us fly, never take off your wings." "Good idea," the mom calls. I hope she means it. After all, it's our wings that lift us up. : )
