The sun hung low in the western sky this evening as a giraffe-legged shadow led me on my walk. It looked gangly and misshapen, with a tiny head and oversized shoes that appeared bigger than its torso. That shadow was accurate, I thought. I felt stretched out. I’d been on my feet all day. No wonder they were the prominent feature.
The day had a rough start when I woke after a sleepless
night at 10:01 a.m. I was scheduled for a
10:00 appointment in an office 25 minutes away, and so took exactly 4 minutes
to get dressed and make a quick phone call to make sure I should still go. Then I flew off in a cloud of dust. The rest of the day followed suit. I ran from one thing to another, getting things done but always dragging just a little
behind where I thought I should be. Or
more accurately, would like to be.
Finally, after I'd dutifully checked everything off the day's to-do
list, the evening shadow took on a pseudo-identity as if to speak to me. “You’ve
been running to keep up all day.
Now just STOP.” I screeched to a
halt in the middle of the road as a delicious wind from the lake dared ruffle my
sweaty bangs. It was a solitary moment; no one else was in sight. I
breathed deeply of watery smells that drifted from head to toe and back again, filling me. The hot sun
beat my back from behind. It was the
most memorable moment of the entire (productive) day, a time to simply be still.
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