On sunny Sunday mornings, I trek to my former junior high school from home. As much as I hated that walk when I was younger, I now love it since I’m not obligated to do it.
Early Morning Duck Crossing
For this outing, a flock of ducks distracted me more than the schoolyard litter. They stopped me in my tracks. Not that they were the least bit aggressive. Quite the opposite.
Spreading Out
I sensed that they saw me since their pattern changed. Stopping at a respectable distance, I allowed the ducks to cross with minimum perturbation by my presence.
Promenade
Usually, I consider my Sunday strolls to be faster than leisurely, but definitely not a power walk. I’m not so much trying to elevate my heart rate as to keep it beating healthily. For once, I wasn’t rushing to be somewhere else. After all, the only real scheduled thing I had to do was make breakfast for Dad and me.
Field Buffet
For Dad, every day is essentially the same. He doesn’t experience the weekend joy of sleeping in. When he awakes, he wants his breakfast. Not that I mind. I’m a breakfast eater, myself.
Stragglers
The challenge is, balancing my weekend schedule while not disrupting his schedule too much. If anything goes astray, Mom has to pick up the slack. That’s something I definitely don’t want to do, especially since she’s already the primary caregiver. She doesn’t often have reliable attendants and no help on Sundays, which she’s trying to change.
When I was younger, I wanted to buy my parents a house. That’s not happened, yet I’d love to buy my own house, all on one level for them to move in with me. Ever the optimist, thinking that my art will cash out. Lord knows it won’t be the 9 to 5.