What Can Change In a Year


Saturday morning, I wait for Jenny and her dog Lupita for our weekend walk around the lake. I am under the bridge, a place I would have never come a year ago because it was thick with old trash and men without homes and the snarled bank of a lake only seen from a distance. And then they build the boardwalk. And then Jenny and I became better friends. And then I walked a long, long way and decided I wanted to keep walking. And then I stood waiting while the sculls passed on the water and the cars roared overhead and Jenny and Lupita arrived and then seven-and-a-half miles we walked talking books and spouses and jobs and travel blew by in an instant.

January 3, 2015

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