When the sun was at its warmest today, I took a long walk with the men in my life — my husband, Ken; sons, Forest and Daniel; and closest pals of the male persuasion, Danny & Jerry. From Danny’s house, full of tamales, soup, crackers and chocolate-covered cherries, we set out for the river, making our way through North Lawrence until we came to the levy trail. Then we walked west, in the sun on this unusually warm day when the light was so broad and strong, it was a little hard to believe that we only had a few hours of it left.
When we got to the spillway, we walked close to the mist, rising funnels of seagulls, and rushing waters, having met friends along the way who visited with us or walked some of the way alongside us. Coming especially to this apex of the walk, I couldn’t help but remember how, when Ken and I were first hanging out together 27 years ago or so, we could come to the spillway often, awakened by the pounding speed of the river. Now our sons and friends, many walks later, were here too.
Watching Daniel, our friend Ginger — who had blended into our walk for this curve of it –– said how natural it was for Daniel to sit by the water, how he seemed to utterly belong there. Danny, who had watched Daniel be born, added that Daniel loved the water back when he was two. I looked around — my friends and family, and on this particular walk especially all these boys grown into men and men grown from young to not-so-young — were ready to head on back. The sun flooded my eyes, I felt the delicious cool of the mist, and I felt a sudden gratitude to be able to walk my life with these men.