A Walk

When I was a university student, I walked a lot.  I didn't have a car or a bus pass so I walked.  As I did, Halifax became a part of me.  There are street names that still bring a smile to my face, Oxford, Quinpool, Robie, Barrington, Gottingen, Spring Garden.



Walking to choir practice this week

I haven't always loved walking.  We walked all over Bridgewater as children.  Sometimes the walk would seem long and we would play "My feet hurt so much that it feels like..."  There were a lot of elephants, refrigerators and pianos falling on toes.  But there were other moments.  I remember walking across the old bridge and feeling a little thrill seeing the LaHave so far below.  I savoured the time to think, walking up Dominion, or down Jubilee, along Alexandra.

We moved in junior high and there was less walking.  Once in awhile I would miss the school bus and walk the seven kilometres to Hebbville Consolidated.  I was amazed by my capability and independence every time.  My high school was farther away, so from grade ten on, if I missed the bus, I went home.  Eighteen kilometres was just not practical.  Except once.  I had a lot to figure out, and there was a day of grade eleven that was beyond me.  When the bell rang for second period, I just left.  There was a lot I couldn't control, and didn't understand, but there was me and I could walk.  It was transformative.  I felt Earth under my feet and I claimed the speck of this vast universe that is occupied by only me.

Over the years since then, I've often turned to walking.  We were living in Taiwan when my first child was born and everything about life changed.  I would put her in that green brown corduroy Snugli, and walk the streets of Kaohsiung for hours.  She would sleep and I would remember myself.  Or there was that season of defeat and countryside.  On one walk, it seemed every house had a 'Beware of Dog' sign and I was afraid.  I prayed for courage and safety.  All the dogs were chained until I hit a secluded spot several hours from home.  There was a sign at the foot of the only driveway in sight, but I didn't worry because I could see from a distance that it had four words, not three.  I'd never seen a sign that said 'Beware of the Dog'.  Suddenly a huge black beast with dangerous teeth was coming at me, growling and barking.  I ran in real terror.  He was gaining.  I've always believed my prayer was answered when I was able to turn, stand tall and say with conviction, "Good dog! Good dog! Go home!"  He stopped, whined, and retreated.  I didn't feel so much defeat after that. 

There's just something about a walk that brings out the strong in me.  I've missed it during this cold, long winter.  But spring has come to Timmins and I have found walking again.