I had a regular loop that I walked when I lived in a different city. I was twelve or thirteen years younger (and about twenty pounds heavier…but I digress). I walked with my son, who was little then, around 7 or 8 years old, and later on, my infant daughter Isabelle accompanied us. We took turns pushing her along in her stroller.
We walked, but we didn’t call it walking, because that’s no fun. For some reason, Anthony started calling it ‘looking for clues’ (nod to Robert Palmer).
So, we would leave our driveway and start our trek up Lake Street. We would search for anything interesting on the ground as we went. Truthfully, the most interesting part of our walk was the midpoint, Pizzi’s (the farm store) where we sometimes (okay, often) made a pit stop on the way for ice cream or soda or candy.
Once, one of the clues we found was Izzy’s baby sock (that we had lost on a previous trip), but usually we found rocks and such. Nothing of value, really.
Except my memories of that time that we spent together.