Walk 38

Walking is what we do best. Me. And my three.

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Roberto, Liz, and Brad

Well, me and Liz, for sure. Roberto occasionally. And Brad, not really. But on this day, this past Sunday, we walked. Together. Up some hills. And on the shore of Pacific Palisades. A beach town in California.

You see, I found this great book, 10,000 STEPS A DAY IN L.A. by Paul Haddad, so we decided to take ‘A Stroll for the Soul’.

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I parked up a hill, about half way, then we walked down the hill, turned left, and walked in the opposite direction of the beach. We headed to the Self-Realization Fellowship Lake Shrine. Oh, boy, what a beautiful, serene setting. You’d never know we were surrounded¬† by people people everywhere. All the greenery, the tall trees, blocked the outside activity, and provided the perfect spot to,¬†seriously, self-reflect.

After balancing our minds, we walked back toward the beach, across Pacific Coast Highway, admiring the magnificent view. The ocean blue.

Nothing is better than walking while spending time with my kids. Kids who are not kids, but adults. Adults who enjoy the outside world. Like I do.

 

Wearing My Emotions

dads sweater:watch

After my dad passed away, years ago, my mom handed me the wool sweater he wore daily. For him, it was a source of warmth and comfort. “Do you think Rudy would like this?” she asked me. I was certain that Rudy would indeed like the sweater. What she may not have realized is that I loved it. Wanted it for myself. When I returned home later that day, I mentioned to Rudy that my mom thought he might like the sweater. He reached for it just as I stretched out my arm toward him, willing it over. He slipped one arm in, then the other, knowing immediately it was too snug for his comfort. “Ah, too bad,” I said. Yet, I was happy. That meant the Irish cardigan would belong solely to me.

I have always loved the fact that the sweater was not something that had been stashed away in a drawer back at my dad’s house, an old treasure or something; but rather a valuable piece of clothing that would be a part of my life, throughout my days. A reminder of my dad, a person I adored.

About a week later, I walked into my mom’s house wearing the sweater. “Well, it didn’t fit Rudy. So, I am going to keep it,” I said, big smile on my face. “Oh, I like it on you!” she stated. Then, she handed me a watch. The watch that had been given to my dad, as a retirement gift, from his position as a college professor. “Since you collect watches, I figured you’d like to add this to your collection.” She placed it in my open hand. An Omega. A watch that works with the rhythm of my pulse, keeping not only track of time, but the month and the date as well. I flipped it over. My dad’s name was inscribed on the back. “Thank you, Mom. I love it. Just like I love Dad’s sweater.” I hugged her small frame gently.

To this day, I wear both items. The watch regularly. The sweater a cold winter days. Both gently soothe the emotions of my heart.