I went on a walk this morning by myself. It was overcast and wet, and it was glorious. I feel so happy I could cry.
I wish I could have taken a picture of the smells. If I closed my eyes, I could imagine I was at the beach — humidity, wet driftwood, damp gravel — missing only the high, sharp tang of salt. The evergreens along the path reminded me of past hikes, the coziness of camping; the fragrant grass made me picture Longwood — the conservatory’s glass panes and pebbled columns, the manicured lawns, the bushes dripping with dew.
Spring colors were more vivid in the rain. I spotted grape hyacinths in the mulch and pink cherry blossoms were set off beautifully against the dull sky.
It’s been a while since I’ve done something like this on my own. I used to take solo walks all the time — in the rain, at night, in the early morning. I enjoyed the solitude. I had a lot of feelings and walking helped me feel them all — nostalgia, loneliness, sadness, sweetness — and accept them, process them. But I’ve felt conscious of how my ability to be alone is changing recently; it’s a good thing, but it does sometimes feel like I’m missing part of myself.
But today I felt like my old self and my new self simultaneously. The familiar longings were there, but I also felt fulfilled. So many of my longings have been satisfied, by God’s grace. It’s all a gift!
Rain started to fall, so gentle and cold that I couldn’t help but laugh. It’s all a gift.
Lit-ology 