Some Might Call it a Spring Walk

Today my 4 percent came in the form a walk around the neighborhood with my husband. That sounds like such a simple thing, but for those of us who've been cooped up inside since November, a stroll outiside still feels like a precious gift. As someone who grew up in Texas, I have trouble calling this hangover weather 'spring,' but in the decade I've been here, I've become Minnesotan enough to feel, in every cell of my body, the desperate gratefulness that accompanies a 50-degree day, even a cloudy, mostly-grey one like today. (Evidence of this year's snow STILL hangs on, now reduced to puddles in our alley.)

So, thank God for the ability to get out and walk. My hubby and I had plenty to talk about, actually, not all of it particularly fun. I think it took me 45 minutes to work through something that's been on my mind (do I have a patient husband or what?), but by the end, I'd come to a good place. I knew there was hope for me, when, in the middle of a point I was trying (insistently) to make, we walked by the most inviting yard. "Just look at those chairs! And the landscaping," I interrupted myself to say. And it WAS quite artfully done.

There's something to be said for taking the time fo focus on each other, talking things out so they don't fester, naming our hopes and fears, and appreciating our sweet neighborhood. On this, my quest for finding the things that matter, I'll take a simple walk . . . any day.