An old friend invited my daughter and I out for a walk by the lake. This might be a mild winter, but it is still windy and cold.
My friend’s wise girlfriend stayed in the warmth of their home while we ventured out. Brave, idiotic beings we chattered our way through the cold. Despite the temperature our day turned out well. Friends with random, questionable ideas like this are the heroes who keep me from becoming a hermit. A fat hermit who would otherwise not exercise because I’m lacking that self-propelled activity gene. But exercising is important for feeling good, being healthy, and producing highly addictive endorphins.
My daughter, who is taking after me, has grown quite attached to her stroller. Our strollers both have four wheels, but mine also packs an engine. Since hers was left at home we encouraged her to walk. Often she’d want to give up. I bribed her with entertainment.
“Let’s race to the garbage can.” I’d cheer. “Let’s run to that blue sign.”
When the fun of achieving those minor wins wore off we distracted her with head games. “I Spy with my little eye…” That lasted about three rounds, then we asked about her favourite things. Nothing warmed the heart of my cold toddler like the thought of pink ice cream.
Into the grocery store we retreated for a momentary thawing and refueling of snacks. The one thing I found worse than a whining toddler was a tired, cold whining toddler on an empty stomach.
We scoured the aisles for food. Peanuts, pickles, and bananas.
“Let’s eat the things that begin with the letter P.” I said to Alexis. “We could eat pickles, peanuts, and pananas.”
She wasn’t fooled. She accepted the pickles, took a handful of peanuts and then marched us across the street for some pizza.
On happier tummies we continued our walk.
While making our rounds we hit two parks by the docks in Port Credit. A lonely set of swings waited in each. These seemed to give Alexis some hope there was redeeming sanity at the root of our adventure. For what’s the point of work without the reward of play? Flailing above the snow dusted ground her little pink boots kicked at the clouds. Us adults took turns shoving her pink bundled bootie, “Higher! Higher!” she squealed with laughter. Endorphins already in play, an added moment of giggles and fresh crisp air pushed all negative thoughts away.
In the end I was amazed at how far we had come. Was it the games? The uneaten pananas? Or the fact that more ground can be made with good friends by our side?
In the experience of my grief journey the latter is true. A hard road traveled is more easily journeyed, when it is traveled by two.
