Still Here

Still Here

Another walk, boring. I am required to walk every morning, though I do take exception to rain, snow, and the occasional stayed up too late watching that old movie, again...

I go the same route out of necessity. My street is very busy, traffic wise, too busy for a pleasant walk. One of the first turn-off’s turns up a huge hill with poison ivy on both sides of the street. My knees dislike the hill, they act as if I’m climbing a mountain. Plus, I always have to pay attention to the poison ivy, especially when cars pass and I need to scooch over to the edge quickly, without touching a leaf. Not a relaxing start to a walk.

So I take the other nearby street. No hill, very little traffic, quiet. Also boring, but mostly I’m not looking at the scenery. It’s just houses, lovely, because they are obviously taken care of by a service, as opposed to mine, taken care of by non-gardener, me.

I do keep my lawn mowed, I have a few simple gardens, and I weed them, usually only when I notice I can’t really see the “show” plants anymore, but still. I can’t afford a service, and you’d be surprised at how many people who disapprove of my landscaping apparently also disapprove of lending a hand on occasion. So much easier to complain.

But I digress. I digress often at my age. It’s easier than “gressing,” (which apparently, isn’t even a real word.) I go with the flow. I do my walk so I can still walk. I take care of my yard, enough. I enjoy my life because I’m still here, so I might as well. It’s certainly better than the alternative. And that’s why I do my daily walk.

I’m still here.