Walking is my escape. I walk the puppy twice a day. If I'm frustrated or brain dead, I go for a walk. When the oldies are cooking something strange in my kitchen, I go for a walk. When I am angry or antsy, I go for a walk.
I love my neighborhood. It's quiet and secluded. There's one way in and one way out. There's rarely any traffic. (I could never live in one of those neighborhoods with a million streets. I'd need breadcrumbs to find my way home.) In the movie, Forrest Gump, Jenny would bellow, "Run Forrest Run." I don't run anymore. My knees and hips can't take it. Other parts of my anatomy don't need to droop any further. But boy, I can walk.
If I ever find my way out of this neighborhood, I may end up in Utah.
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