Day 649 April 12, 2022

Every Day Changes

I went on two long walks today, dropping off my car at the tire store before work, and walking across town to my office, and then returning on my lunch break to pick it back up. This morning was chilly and drizzly. Not enough to open my umbrella that I carried, but cold enough that I wore my hat and gloves. This afternoon, it was edging towards the 60 degree day it was to become. Students were out on the lawns and buds were incipient promises on the ends of branches. 

I have always enjoyed walking, not with the passion of a dedicated hiker, but as one who allows the momentum of a moment to propel one forward. I’ve walked across cities, hiked across countrysides, and yet walking in rural Massachusetts happens less than one might expect.

That is why, I don’t really mind my distant parking lot, particularly now that the days are not so cold. My parking lot at work is far enough that my watch thinks I am engaging in an exercise routine. I park at the top of a steep hill, and today I marveled at the toned bare legs of a student and wondered how many times a day he or she must do the climb from dorm room to dining hall, to classes, forgetting a book, changing one’s clothes. I, on the other hand, have not benefited yet from the passive exercise of going to my car, and only feel old and winded, or old and trying to pretend I am not winded among all the young people around me.

There was one day when I saw a woman in her motorized wheelchair climbing the hill with her PCA, and when they reached the crest (the first crest, I park after the next one), they turned and stared back down at the campus as the sun set behind the library. I stopped too, to catch my breath, and to watch the sunset. And then, as I continued on, they headed back down the hill and I realized they had climbed it for fun, to watch the sunset. That felt pleasing to me, like there was hope for some things in this world. 

The truth is, I sometimes forget to stop and turn around when I am walking or riding my bicycle. I have to be intentional to look up and notice my surroundings. It is easy to focus on the mechanics of walking so much so that all the attention is placed on the asphalt, the patterns the cracks make and where they are filled with dirt, the dropped ice cream cone puddle, the crushed paper burrito bowl, the broken glass bottle. Yesterday, I was lucky enough to see five deer in two different groups, and two alpaca standing in someone’s front yard like chickens flown from the coop. I want to be alert enough to see those kinds of things every day. Today, I discovered an old pizza shop that used to deliver cigarettes with their pizza seems to have closed shop. The fixtures were still there, but the storefront looked untouched for some time. And a little further down Main Street, my old lawyer’s office is now vacant and empty, all his yacht photos packed up and secured in bubble wrap somewhere. Today I walked across town twice in hard soled dress shoes and felt the sun melt away the vestiges of morning.

The graffiti changes every day in this corner of campus.