Walking Into Spring

Walking is my new and favorite habit I have found during quarantine. I walk in circles in the house. I walk outdoors with our dogs, with Marc, and it is a welcomed moment of relief, a forced break, a way to move through a space, to sift the weight of thoughts unknown and carried. 

Walking this week it is warm, almost seventy in the spring. The air is breaking, welcoming us back. The sky is flush with pink and purple, the trees dim, darkening, their branches, emptying and now growing, a mix of death and the new bloom. 

This is how it is too, flattening the curve. We live inside a space away from its reach, lucky to walk next to it. Together now, one arrives with the other in a new night, a new morning, coming. The end of something is always the beginning of something else. 

Once we hit a bottom to the curve; we will always be shadowed by this. We will see it as we continue to walk on, moving back into a new beginning.