I went for a “I need to get out of this house or I’m going to throw myself through a window” walk today. It was a beautiful, brisk 39 degrees so I threw on a hat and a warm coat. My legs almost seemed confused at first but quickly got into the groove again as I made my way down the streets of Alex.
It felt good to be outside. I saw a few cars go by, but not many. I could hear the birds chirping happily in the trees. The earth felt relaxed; a pleasant humming underneath my feet. It’s as if she’s working away quietly to let her wounds heal while she has the chance. Scar tissue is forming while we, the ones wielding the knives, are in our camps.
I grew up in Alexandria, but I grew up on the outside of town. There were many parts of town I didn’t venture to until I was much older. Mostly because I didn’t have a reason to. The town is quite different from when I was young, but it’s always been a small farming community that loves football and Jesus. It has been struck down with poverty and drugs, but it is a town of strength and kindness. I’ve always felt safe here. I know if I knock on any door and ask for help, I’ll receive it. (I also have to check my white privilege there, too.)
During my time in quarantine, I can still take walks. So here’s the first chapter of my time in this little town I still call home.
There’s always beauty to be found. I am happy to open my eyes to see it every day. If I can capture it somehow – that’s a bigger gift.
