This walk with Fleet will forever be stamped in my mind. He was 2.5 years old.

My cousin came to visit yesterday. This is kind of a big deal in a pandemic. We planned to see each other last spring but she got pneumonia and then covid hit and 11 months later, we hugged with masks on, but it still counts. 

We used to talk weekly, sometimes daily. Life has changed and while it’s been good for us individually, it’s distanced our friendship. We miss each other.

We sat and talked and talked and talked. We picked Charlie Mac up from school and rode over to Sunrise Park. We walked onto the beach, me thinking that we’d do our normal; walk 10 steps, spend 8 seconds looking for sharks teeth, toddler melts down, head home. But off she went. 

My cousin is very tall, like 5 feet 11 inches of the most beautiful woman housing a brilliant mind and a huge heart. Also, she doesn’t have toddlers so she gets to walk…at whatever pace she wants, for whatever distance she wants. And those long legs can move, sister. 

I held Charlie Mac’s hand, urging him along, doing my best to keep up. I said, “We should probably turn back soon. He’s going to melt any minute and I’ll have to carry him.” I felt a little chumpy, worried she might think I was out of shape or worse, lazy. “Oh, I’m happy to carry him,” she replied. As if. She forgets what toddlers are like. 

We’ve been going to this park weekly for 7 years. I have never walked as far as I did yesterday. 

I used to walk far, didn’t I? Like, I’d head to the beach or out my front door and I’d just go, right? That happened. There was a time that one block didn’t seem like a feat and my mind wasn’t constantly jumping to the inevitable meltdown, right? 

Yes. I remember that time. Most notably, marked by its ending when I realized that a slow stroll, holding a tiny hand was my new pace in life. 

It’s been this way for awhile. I’ve been holding a tiny hand for 10 years now. And as soon as I surrendered, I was happier. 

There have been many times over the years that these slow walks to nowhere, tiny hand in mine, were the highlight of my day. I remember 4 years ago, walking Elle into daycare every morning. She was so slow, I had to leave the house early just to have the time. I cherished these last few minutes with her before heading into work. Also, this afternoon, holding Charlie Mac’s hand, walking the block while his siblings biked and skated around us.
 
There are the tiny hands that aren’t so tiny any more: Fleet (10) and Luke (9). Mothering them brought me to my knees and closer to their beautiful faces and to myself and to God. I didn’t go willingly. I fought it. I cried. I rebelled…I will walk, all the way around the block if I damn well please. Ha. I haven’t met a toddler yet who cares what their parents “damn well please.” 

So we surrender. For our happiness, for theirs. Sometimes the surrender lasts so long that we forget life before and we don’t even miss it. We think, “I’m going to miss THIS. This thing I fought against, I’m going to miss it.”
 
Fast and far are good exercise, no doubt. But slow and short, with frequent stops to explore nothings, that’s where it’s at.