I went for a walk today. The first time since I lost him.
I strolled the sidewalks of our neighborhood. I took our after-dinner route. By myself.
Memories danced around me.
Our family of four, with our dog on her leash, walking the paved path with the mountain view. Years ago, just two of us. Then we added a stroller. Then a double stroller. Then we upgraded to a wagon. And most recently, we all walked together, and everybody had a buddy.
Often, Molly peed in every yard while Robb tugged on her leash, embarrassed and hoping the neighbors weren't watching. Tucker collected rocks, tossing and trading them for shiny shapes he liked more. And Tyler's energy and interest never lasted the entire stroll. He always landed on someone's hip or shoulders. Sometimes we skipped or sang. Sometimes the boys ran ahead. Often, Robb and I held hands.
Today, I walked by myself.
Sometimes I walked slowly, my head down, my heart heavy with remembering.
Sometimes I walked faster, wanting to finish, my heart racing with remembering.
I walked in the shade, a grief cold and mean.
I walked in the sunshine, a warm and gracious sadness. Sometimes I stopped, just to breathe.
It is good to cry with my face to the sun. It feels sacred and promising.
One step at a time.