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forest paths

June 11, 2013

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We walk.

It’s what we have always done.  The last time we did was after one of the worst 3 weeks in the history of us.  I don’t understand deep dark sadness.  He does.  And when he gets there I don’t know what to do.  I don’t know how to be there because they I need him to be there for him is so very different from how he needs me to be there for him.  He needs silence, he thinks where I share and I need to be in his presence.  He needs his thoughts to form and to make sense in his mind first before he can articulate them.  I articulate as I talk.

We.process.differently.

But this last walk sort of mirrored us.  I walked on the path in the middle of this great green forest and he walked with me.  He walked with me but stopped to tie his shoes, adjust his socks.  He went off the path to take photos of numbers and I had to be a little patient sometimes leaving him behind to do what he was doing but he always caught up, he always was around me.  He walked with me but in a different way.  The silent moments between us on the walk spoke louder than any words could have.  He was always there in the way he knows how.

I just had to wait for him, walk a little slowly sometimes but that’s what happens when we are going over rough patches.  He has to hurry up to catch me sometimes, sometimes I have to remember to slow down.  He knows I am there and I will slow down a bit for him just like he sometimes needs to chase my flutters around.

 

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