The Path

From the time my children were babies, I've been taking them on long walks.

First, in the baby carrier.

Then, in the single stroller.

Eventually, in the double jogging stroller.

And now, all three on bikes.

They complain a shit ton when I tell them where we're going.  It's about a mile and a half from start to finish and for some reason that's just SOOOO long and TOOOO tiring.  Suck it up I telepathically tell them...and then, I try to make it fun.

The beauty of our location is that we're surrounded by older, established parks with huge trees, a beautiful golf course, lots of trails and places to hide...if you want to.

And so, each time, I let them in on a new part of the path...a hidden passage where you can go and dream.  Everyone needs a place to call their own and often, it's not found in the place where you dwell or call your home.

It's far away, under a tree, on a bridge, by a mountain or a stream...it calms you, it makes you present, it helps you get back to you.

On part of my favorite sojourn is a bridge where two houses reside.  One is a log cabin with a huge hammock embedded in what looks like Shel Silverstein's the "Giving Tree" and the other abode's entire front facade is windows and as the light hits, the entire kitchen is flooded with kaleidoscope reflections.

Every time I go for a long run, I incorporate "the path" into it.  I turn my music off and listen to my heart and my feet as they shuffle by and I dream.  Because really, I don't do it enough.  I don't let myself.  It's not practical to think about my hopes or desires.  There's just much to do.  But when I let myself pretend that I live in the log cabin with the fire in the winter and the tulips in the springtime and that I'm drinking a glass of wine as the sun is going down in the sunporched kitchen...a little bit of me is rejuvenated, feels alive again...and well, feels like me.

If you don't have a spot, find one....announce to the world that it's yours.  Dream, laugh, cry, reflect, hope...but mostly go there regularly to get away from the noise and to remember who you are when the world's not demanding that you be otherwise.

Here's a picture of me on my bridge with my kiddos and a song by Sara Bareilles called, "Once Upon a Time," that reminds me of what it means to be free remembering those childhood spots you could call your own.