Joy

I wanted to look something up online today, which meant a trip out to the office. I decided to walk (undoubtedly influenced by my current reading of Divorce Your Car by Katie Alvord). I live about 2 miles from where I work, and it took me about half an hour to get here. Yes, this is longer than the drive out would have been. I also have sweat a bit more. But...

• I watched a butterfly fly past
• I talked to an old lady sitting out in front of her house on a lawn chair (I don't know her, but does that really matter?)
• I smelled autumn leaves
• I heard said leaves crunch beneath my feet
• I felt the breeze blow through my hair
• I saw the heavy clouds looming overhead (40% chance of scattered thunderstorms today)
• I smelled burning wood (like someone was grilling with wood chips maybe?)
• I experienced that mild excitement I get every time I step across a set of railroad tracks: the feeling of coming in contact with something larger than myself (is it weird that train tracks and beaches give me similar feelings?)
• I noticed trees and dogs and children and the temperature
• I saw a car antenna lying at the side of the road by a busy intersection
• I run the distinct risk of getting caught in the rain. A situation that was so commonplace in childhood that it was barely considered, but as a grown up it seems to be a Thing To Be Avoided At All Costs.
• I was blessed, no, I am blessed by just this simple act of living

I doubt I divorce my car. My kids live too far away for that, and, besides, I like internal combustion: the sounds and smells and the feel of moving down the road. I really do like it. I also really like chocolate, but if chocolate was as central to my diet as solo automobile travel is central to my transportation then I would be in very bad shape. Maybe my car is like my sweet tooth. Then again, maybe not. Regardless, today's walk has brought nothing but joy so far, and I am grateful.