We layer the clothes.
Tee shirt. Fleece. Vest. Jacket. Hat. Gloves.
Then shut the door tight as Ace prances ahead, happy for another morning to explore. The sniffs are never the same.
Nor are we.
Some mornings we walk silently. A morning meditation without labeling it anything fancy or interesting. Just the one route or the other. Predictable. Comforting.
We pick up trash. Worry about the vicious vine smothering another tree. Step away to avoid the poison ivy. Disturb the heron who flees from the bush. Look down at the dew painting our boots.
Some mornings we talk about the economy. Our businesses. The house. Politics. Family. Feelings of uncertainty and unidentifiable malaise. We walk and talk.
A rhythm with no set beat.
Sometimes just an “mmm” to respond.
Sometimes letting the silence speak.
Sometimes the same points about the same topics, with more or less heat.
Always an unspoken contentment about starting the day together.
This ritual weaves a stronger fabric into a long marriage.
This habit brings order to an unpredictable world.
This walking reassures us we’re never alone.