Still Life: Walks with Roxy

There are a lot of things I abhor about this pandemic, but one thing that I'm loving is my daily walks with our three-year-old black lab, Roxy. 

I now work from home most of the time, and we have a new routine. Ollie wakes up earlier than I do, so he lets her out of her kennel and fills up her dishes. When I get up I take Roxy out on a mile-long walk. Doug's already at work so I invite Ollie, but he's not very keen on early morning exercise. It's fine, with Ollie the walks take on a more harried appearance with a lot of shushing. It's still enjoyable and I know that time with my son is fleeting, so I will take time with him anytime I can. I do love the serenity of walking alone with Roxy, however. 

We take our time, although I still have to urge her on from time to time. We'll walk the same path (in case Ollie needs to find me he doesn't have far to look), but I vary the direction. Squirrels bound and chipmunks dart away from us. Roxy leaps after them and gets stuck in mid-air like a horse rearing back because I've grasped the leash and am holding her steady. I have to remind her that we all need to live harmoniously, silly girl.

We meet the same people on our walk each day; the eighty-year-old man who steps timidly with his sunglasses and a smile, blessing the morning and telling me that he'll have a good day if I do - I promise to do so and he says, "It's a deal, then." The older couple with their giant sun hats remind me that a forty-five minute walk every morning might be just the thing to keep a marriage together. The demure woman with the lassie and the nearly ninety-year-old man who trots alongside his pooch always exchange pleasantries.

And while I walk Roxy three times a day, usually around noon and after dinner, it's the morning walk that I look forward to the most. This is the walk that most often leaves me calm, encouraged, thoughtful and most ready for the day. And man, do I need that.

It's not always lovely weather like it has been lately. Sometimes it's rainy, windy or cold. Sometimes it's shortened because I've slept too late or we have an earlier morning that usual. Sometimes I wake up on the wrong side of the bed and don't take my chance to breathe, pray and enjoy, or I'm wearing the wrong glasses that slip down my nose, or my underwear rides up my crack, or my feet hurt or my hair is in my face...or any number of things, which can add a sting to the walk if I let it. 

In the end, though, I usually step back onto our grass with a grateful heart. I deposit Roxy's poo in the container next to the garage, slip into the house, remove Roxy's leash and let her trot past the carpet to Ollie on the couch, sniffing what he's eating for breakfast. And I remind myself each and every time: I'm alive, my family is here, my house, our food, my job - it's all enough. 

All thanks to an early morning walk.