Walking On

I stuff a plastic bag into one pocket. I tuck my keys into another. I attach the leash to my terrier’s collar as he sits next to the front door. Off we go.

We leave the house, walking down the driveway, stopping at the edge of the road. Birds fly overhead. Cars speed past us.

I wait until I hear the all clear, the silence of an empty road. We walk along the edge of the road to the corner and quickly turn onto a side street. I smell the pine needles of the trees around us. Wind rustles the branches.

My white cane slides back and forth across the ground, searching for inconsistencies, bumps, gaps. I push my shoulders back and lift up my chin. My terrier trots along, looking to the side as we pass particular houses where his doggy friends live.

When we move down the street that parallels the train tracks, sometimes we get to watch the train rumble past. Not today. Sunlight catches in the puddles created by melting snow. My sunglasses dim the glare.

A car approaches. When it reaches me, I smile in the direction of the driver. Sometimes, I’ll give a little wave. I never really know if they see me, but I do it anyway. I’m that kind of a neighbor.

Round another corner. Go down the long lane. My terrier finds a patch of grass which he sniffs eagerly, checking his p-mail. He sits down and scratches his neck with his back leg. I stretch back with my hands on my hips, resting for a moment.

I readjust my sunglasses. We set off again. I don’t know who enjoys the walks more–my dog or me.

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2 Comments Add yours

  1. Drew says:

    “p-mail” – classic 🙂

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