Running out the clock

I woke up feeling too tense for a Saturday. Each brick of anxiety that accumulated in the past week falling back on my chest, making it hard to fill my lungs. I soothed myself with some facts and figures, turning the bricks of anxiety into more manageable stones. Looked at photos of my new mountain home. Studied the smiling faces of the people who climb the hills and breathe the sweet air of that elusive place I've been longing for.

Then I remembered the Saturday morning walks that have been bringing me peace these past few weeks. Like finding a $10 bill in the laundry. Slipped on shoes and a jacket over the leggings and tee shirt that I slept in, and was out the door.  Armed with a fresh brewed coffee, I headed west. No particular destination in mind. I let the beauty and faint scent of flowering crabapple trees lead me. By the time the coffee kicked in I was on my old high school grounds, watching the girls track team run laps on the same ring where I had dragged my feet 25 years ago. I passed the public pool and thought about stopping at the bakery up ahead for a cake that said "Happy birthday, Dad." Tried to separate the manic thoughts from the rational ones. Zoe's dad isn't a big fan of cake, I remembered. But I wouldn't mind using the bathroom...

Just then a favorite song came on, one that started slow and breathy, and gained speed near the middle. As if my feet were the percussion track, I also gained speed, swinging my arms, then trotting along like this was my normal Saturday routine. Of course it hasn't been for many months. But there it was.