Roads to Joy

We headed toward the remaining sunshine, up the Old Edinburgh Road, the other day, on a belated walk. It took a set of brisk steps to get up the rise, but finally we were standing in the bright sun’s rays. Just in time, we thought!

We’ve three walks, maybe four, that we enjoy from outside our front door. We could venture out onto the dyke wall that runs around the marshland along Ken Water. We could amble up past the golf course to a patch of ancient woodland and enjoy the soft moss-covered ambience there. But sometimes it’s the walk itself, of sufficient briskness, that compels, and that’s when a deserted road is best.

The shadows lengthened before us as we took our time coming back. Time to think about things, about what’s next. Yes, there’s another session of logistics to take over our lives, in the coming month. Yes, there’s a set of documentations to peruse, complete, sort and file. Yes, there’s the moving to and fro, from storage to house, from little hideaway to larger home. Lots of things to be worrying about.

And not just for us, but for the grown-up children too. This career option, that opportunity, this new job, that coordination. And of course, the grandchildren are growing into new worries too: sporting challenges; school gambits; playing space and fun. There’s space in our minds for all of these worries, as we amble along.

But mostly our pre-occupation was just the walk, the breeze, the shade and the sunshine. The joy of the simple view. If we get out, just the once during the day, and walk ourselves somewhere, together, it feels like renewing a beloved acquaintance with the elements, with ourselves, and our often-reluctant bodies that could use the exercise. And though we may reflect on them, the worries do seem to drop away, somehow, for a moment at least.

In the end, we didn’t really resolve anything, as we moved from sunny bits into shadow, from shade to light, but we had a great walk!