It was only your first day of summer vacation, but already you were feeling restless with the change in routine.  You saw the picture icon for the park on the schedule and while you protested at first, you changed your mind and quickly put on your sneakers.  I wasn’t even showered yet but you were insistent that we needed to leave right then.  “Walk.  Little Buffalo.” you said as you followed me through the house, so I changed, brushed my teeth, and ran a brush through my hair and off we went.

We pulled into the parking lot and I mentally groaned when I saw all the little children scurrying about.  Sometimes kids can stress you out and I was afraid you would change your mind about walking or maybe even get upset.  But you got right out of the van and even though you kept a careful eye on the children, you easily moved right on past them and walked towards your favorite trail.

 

With a sly grin tossed in my direction, you began the climb up the hill.  I used to teasingly complain when you first started taking this trail and you still think it is funny.  It used to be that this section of the trail was a bit rough for you and seemed to make you feel unsteady.  You would tightly hold on to me as we climbed the hill together … usually with me pulling or pushing you along. This time, you didn’t need me as you steadily
climbed up that winding, steep hill … over fallen trees, rocks, and raised up roots.

I followed behind with a watchful eye and a proud smile.

 

We got to the very top and then, without hesitation, you started down the stairs to pick up the next section of the trail.  For years you have always held onto me and leaned on me because these stairs made you feel nervous, but this time you simply held onto the rails and went down yourself.

 

 

This is the point of the walk when I can always see you relax … sometimes you look at the lake beside you, sometimes you just go into a zone and watch the ground.  But peace almost always seems to fill you as we enter these woods.

It’s my favorite place too.

 

 

Usually, I walk right beside you but this time, I wanted to give you more space. You were never out of my sight and always within a few feet but I wanted you to feel some freedom and independence.  It has to be hard to always need supervision so since the trail was quiet, I held back a little as you walked ahead.

 

But during a time that we walked side-by-side, I held my hand out a bit and without looking, you reached over and took a gentle hold of my fingers.

 

 

We walked the whole way across to the other side of the park
and usually I guide you into turning around at this point, but this time, I let you keep going.  I knew you wanted to see if the pool was open or not.  You haven’t been to this pool in years but you get curious about it sometimes.  We got close enough that you could hear the noise of the children playing in the water and could see the distant blue of the water, but then you quickly turned around to leave.  I offered to walk closer so you could see but you didn’t want to.  You seemed nervous as you walked a few steps and then stopped, turned around again, and asked, ‘Swimming pool?’  I told you that we could come back and visit the pool sometime if you wanted to but for now, we needed to go home.  You seemed relieved as you confirmed, ‘Home’, and turned towards the trail again.

We quietly walked the whole way back to the other side, listening to the quiet of the forest interspersed with the voices of those kayaking and fishing on the lake.

This is always one of my favorite spots as we leave the shadowy darkness of the forest and step into the sunshine.

We walked across the dam and since you walked past the stairs that lead back down to where our van was parked, we had to take the long way around to the parking area.  I don’t mind … those steps are dreadful and I like the longer walk.

On the final leg of our walk, heading back down to the parking lot…

Every day isn’t always this lovely.

The sky isn’t always this blue.

Every moment isn’t always this peaceful.

But I sure love walking with you.