The River Walk

Walking along the river today, I didn't feel cold.  The thermometer said it was 23 degrees and there was still a breeze blowing off the water...remnants of the harsh, bitter, cruel wind that howled last night, ushering in the cold front.  Yet I was bundled nicely in my warmest and softest clothes, which kept me snug.  I thought about how lucky I was to be in this place at this time; able to walk with some (but not much) pain to where I could observe the frozen river before me.  True, I was exhausted.  Exhaustion seems to be the lingering enemy of this Lyme disease and while I felt fantastic for three weeks now, yesterday the bone deep tiredness came creeping back.  I was exhausted, but still able to make this short walk.

When I arrived at this spot I allowed all of my senses to be alive and take in the moment.  I noticed that it was particularly quiet and still...silence is so golden to me now when before Lyme silence was a heavy weight.  I also noticed the mixture of the warm radiance of the sun against by bare cheeks with the simultaneous bite of the cold wind that made my cheeks burn.  Ah, the burn of cheeks on a cold winter's day...it was a joy to have my body feel something from an outside element rather than pain coming from inside my own body.  I noticed the reflection of the sun off the frozen river that was hurting my eyes...so bright after days of grey and clouds.  It was so good to be there, even for a few minutes.  So glad I had this chance today.  While I was standing at the water's edge, I thought of my father, who so loved this area, this river.  I feel the closest to him near open water.  I vow to myself, before turning and walking back to my truck, that I must get out more often, even if it is for a short trek.  It makes me feel connected and alive.