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Walking.

I love walking through my neighborhood these days…

… greeting the great, stone Lions in front of the old Victorian on Lafayette.

… raising my eyebrow to the bird cage sequence complete with miniature ladders, the works.

… reading the yard signs, imagining the political opinions of the residents staking them down.

… humming the Weepies tunes too loud for others’ comfort but perfect for my pleasure.

But most of all I adore the crunching beneath my boots and vibrant-warmth of the leaves.  The trees look like an exploding sunset these days; I love it.  Reminds me of the power of wondering at nothing.

The city breathes all the time, ceasing to sleep while waiting for no one.  By Saturday’s roll around, I can barely catch up, but I’m part of it nonetheless.  And as I walk its blocks and streets quietly, I hear something different whistle through the rushing busyness.  The streets are cracked, but something’s itching to come up out of those broken, deep patches of emptiness.  Something good, hearty, and beautiful.

Nope, it’s not going to be simple or easy or together-looking, but it’s gonna be hopeful and lasting.  Until then, and for that very reason, I’ll keep walking.

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About ashcmorris

World traveler. Red wine drinker. Indie and pop music listener. Reader. Experience-Craver. Redemption seeker. Slow-riser. Late-night writer. Cupcake baker. Social worker. Blue pen disliker. *Yep, it's that simple with me.

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