On
two recent afternoons, I walked the familiar path through the prairie in
Meadowbrook Park.
On
the first day, the clouds were thick as I parked the car by the popular play structure
where a few children played despite the cold.
As I turned off the ignition, the drizzle turned to a steady rain, and
parents began hurrying children to the cars, some bundled in their arms. I had grabbed my raincoat as I left the house;
with the hood low over my face, I looked down at the ground and walked on the
familiar path. I was sad, and the
weather mirrored my mood. The rain
seemed just right, and the path beneath my feet grounded me.
Twenty-four
hours later, I was back on the path. The
sun was brighter than it had been in days, the air was crisp, and I felt lighthearted
and wide awake. I walked again on the
path that has become a kind of meditation for me.
On
this last day of 2014, I am grateful for this prairie to which I return all
year round, where I listen for the creatures that share the space, and watch
the grass that blows in the wind.
