Walking. On Sunday Morning.

There she is. 7:30 am, December 28, 2022. She’s the middle aged runner that I mentioned in prior posts, a runner who runs every day, every day at least since I’ve been out on these morning walks, and again this morning, 1026 consecutive (almost) mornings, like in a row.

It was a mild December morning, 32° F, but, oh, that sunrise, and oh the photos on that glorious day.  I happened to be in the right spot at the right time to get a shot of her coming and going.

I want to use a ‘Lori word’ to describe her, diminutive. I had to look it up. But anyone who runs with the persistence that she does, is anything but diminutive.  Driving rain, biting cold, humid August mornings, she’s running.

She’s Asian, I hadn’t shared that previously, trying to protect her privacy, not that her origin matters or that anyone would have put two and two together. In the few words that we’ve spoken in our ~1000 flash intersections, I learned that English is not her first language, which pairs nicely with me, where socializing with Humans is not mine.  Beyond “Good Morning!” or “It’s a Beautiful Morning!”, we said little else.

That December morning, I looked at the camera view finder, hmmmm, these are good. I looped back to catch her before she left the park. She shared her number, I shared a link to the photos. And that was that.

Last week, we crossed paths again, and she had asked me if “I happened to get to Greenwich Beach to catch the sunrises, where on clear mornings” she said, “you can see Manhattan.” She caught my long pause, then to fill the awkward silence I blurted out that “I don’t know how to say it, but I’ve been doing this morning walk here for so long, I feel uneasy going anywhere else.” She stared at me and said: “I know how you feel. It can be dark here, and when I see you or your car, I know I will be ok…you know, I will be safe.”

We walked together down the path into the rising sun, this woman from China, this man from Canada, in this country U.S., grateful for it all, and the peace of that very moment — in a world Mary Oliver describes as “the news (being) all about bombs and blood.”

She said goodbye.

I told her “Not to worry, I have your back.”

She laughed…”see you tomorrow.”

I’ll remember this.


Comments

  1. Being there for others … priceless 💕

    Liked by 3 people

  2. Vera Kanigan says:

    Such a beautiful post! Brought tears to my eyes!

    Liked by 1 person

  3. And remembering this … we can have it every day. Simply be with others as they go through life and experience what it brings.
    We all yearn for those who can simply be there and travel with us.
    Showing up is the first step. Letting go of interfering thoughts is the next. And they send love and understanding. We can be observers … and also bridges to love .

    Liked by 3 people

  4. Beautiful post David. Thank you sir. You made my day, and I am grateful.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. I love the intersections of humanity that happen organically

    Liked by 1 person

  6. Olga Kanigan says:

    Heart warming post Dave

    Liked by 1 person

  7. A few moments of a brief daily human connection. I love this!

    Liked by 1 person

  8. Nowadays, it makes sense to look for someone who will have your back when you’re in a lonely place.

    Like

  9. How absolutely lovely that you learn how just your presence made someone feel safer in this world! … I’m wondering what “middle age” is to you? I remember learning many years ago that it meant about age 35. I was shocked, maybe because I was about 35, and I assumed it meant about age 55.

    Liked by 1 person

  10. Beautiful.

    Like

  11. so much intimacy in that moment: Into-me-see! Beautiful! -MJ

    Like

  12. I loved your commentary more than the photo 0 which says a lot because I ove your photos)…Made me think of Rumi (I paraphrase) -‘we’re all just walking each other home’. You make her feel safe and she reminds you of the grace of friendship.

    Like

  13. It’s when you’re not looking you seem to find what you need. I love this.

    Like

  14. Sweet! It seems we are all more visible (and important) than we know. And middle-aged is 50.😉

    Like

  15. Wow. Feel good with a stranger. Yet a stranger no more. Enjoyed this today! 🌻

    Like

  16. It’s beautiful that we are so reliant on one another, we draw so much from one another – we give so much and *are* so much to one another – in so many ways of which we are unaware. Loved this post, thank you for sharing.

    Liked by 1 person

  17. Late to the party, but no less enthusiastic. I. Love. This.

    Like

  18. This is the most beautiful ‘tribute’ to a (nearly) unknown woman of a certain age (as the French spoken say so kindly!) and your comment made me smile and nod. Yes, she felt safe with you on the peripherie of her runner life and you are thus important to her. Isn’t that just wonderful?
    Not to blow my own horn (and anyway, I’m so late that nobody will see this), I tend to get many comments like that too, lots of ppl remember me because I have wild white hair and seem to smile at everybody. Sometimes it creates uneasiness in me because I can’t think of where-from I should know these ppl but I understand they remember me because I’m small (fat) and roll about like a white cloud…. Yesterday, four ppl spoke to me in the shops, which was wahayyy too many and I lost hours on my day – but the one who took most of my time (and whom I KNEW earlier from gymn) told me her illness related news and soon we philosophed about medication, the sources of illnesses, God and the world and I felt (in that case) that it was time well spent.
    If you can make somebody’s life a tiny fraction better, and be it just by saying good morning on a run or walk, it’s a great deed.

    Like

  19. A beautiful post.
    You touch people in so many ways. Your blogging included! 🙂

    Like

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