I’d felt the full gamut of human emotions by 7:45 this morning.
Gratitude. Love. Fear. Worry. Shame. Embarrassment. Guilt.
And for no particular reason other than weariness from nearing the end of the workweek and the usual concerns about family and friends experiencing pain, heartache, and health worries.
Luckily, I was awake early enough to get the dog out for a walk.
Fresh air usually fixes me, and for starters, maybe the walk would lessen the guilt I feel about not giving the dog more of me. His insatiable energy is more noticeable now that it’s just the two of us in the house. Thinking of him alone for eight-plus hours while I’m at work riddles me with guilt.
Of course, the reasonable part of my brain knows he has a wonderful life. He’s never experienced hunger or been left out in the cold, and he sleeps beside me in bed with his head on a fluffy pillow.
Still. Guilt.
I do a quick body scan. I feel good. Lucky me.
I take a deep breath and walk, acutely aware of how grateful I am for my good health and sweet little life.
I can shake this off.
We’re walking our typical route, half a mile to Saint Francis Church at the end of South Street. Ten minutes there. Ten minutes back, give or take a few minutes for extra sniffing around the piles of leaves lining the street.
Something nudges at my subconscious.
Get out of your head. Look around. You know how to shake this off.
And so I do. And what do I see?
A spotlight illuminates the golden crucifix atop the church steeple. It shines beneath the dark rain clouds overhead.
A crow flies overhead and lands right on top of it.
How silly he looks.
I see just the top of the American flag waving above the roof of the rectory.
A gust of wind sends the few remaining leaves of a tree swirling around me before they settle on the wet ground.
They are golden.
Without its leaves, the tree reveals the remnants of a wasp nest tucked among its branches. I wonder how long it’s been there, hidden in plain sight.
I turn the corner and head home, balancing the logistics of a dog on a leash, an umbrella, a bag of poop, and a head full of racing thoughts.
I think about the crow perched on the crucifix and feel like I could laugh and cry at the same time.
I smile instead.
The smile feels like decent middle ground.
When we get home, I reach for my work bag and notice that a single bloom has opened on my hibiscus tree.
How did I miss that earlier?
Just last night, it was rapidly dropping leaves, seemingly unhappy about having been moved back indoors for the cold season.
And here it is, offering up this spectacular pink flower.
Deep breath.
The walk worked.
Somewhere along the way, between the crow and the falling leaves and this unexpected flower, I’d found my way out of my worries and back into the world around me.
I am golden.