I wasn’t lost. I had the GPS running as I walked in the neighborhood around my office. At a certain point in all of my mostly right turns, my walk felt circular and all the roads I’ve driven many times looked different enough from my pedestrian point of view to usher in some doubt. I wasn’t that far away but I didn’t want to go any farther than what I’d planned on being a 15 to 20 minute walk.
The ideal is to walk daily. The plan is to walk whenever I can, especially after a meal, and fill in one of the thirty boxes on a laminated sheet of paper pinned to the bright yellow cork board in my office. The weight I gained during our family cruise in March is mostly gone but the cruise weight has made me more attentive to my overall health. So the plan is to walk as often as possible.
As I walked, I reflected on things I’ve missed about the South, aside from friends, familiarity and the daily walks I was forced to do each morning with my dog. I’ve missed the guarantee that when you walk by someone, you’ll exchange a smile or a hello or both. As much as I’ve scoffed at the the idea of Southern hospitality (because invitations into the homes of people who were from the South were slim), I’ve missed the easy acknowledgements. Marylanders remind me of Chicagoans. I wasn’t expecting that. 15 years in the South developed an expectation that I’m not ready to give up.
Once my steps felt circular, I stopped at an intersection and referenced my GPS. I’m horrible at reading maps. I need maps to read me then tell me what to do in a loud voice. I stood still trying to figure out if I should be going left or right. I was pretty sure I should go right and stared harder at my phone in hopes that I wouldn’t get this wrong. Yup, this is where I am. I think that looks familiar.
In the midst of my inner monologue, a runner called to me. “You look lost,” she said, a smile in her voice. “You have that look on your face. Where are you trying to go, toward town or away?”
“Toward.”
She pointed me to the right. I thanked her. She wished me well.
As she ran off, I smiled at my good fortune—a mini conversation with a stranger. Maybe she’s from Virginia.