I’ll Keep Him

On Tuesday morning I usually drop of Mr. TOF at preschool and go for a longer walk.  Tuesday morning is my walking morning because Wednesday morning I go to the university for my cello lesson (and try to look smart while rolling a cello case behind me across the campus from the parking lot, not like the cello-playing-impostor that I really am) and on Thursday mornings I’m off to teach a preschool music class at one place or another.  Last Tuesday morning Dr. Peds was not working and did not have any meetings.  I asked him if he’d like to come along on my walk.

Before we left, Dot called, and I had a great time catching up on what my niece and nephews were doing while we had a great conversation on the phone.  After hanging up, I tied my sneakers, and encouraged my husband to hurry up and find his sweater.  We were off.

Apparently he didn’t have any idea what he was signing up for.  He thought we were going on a very short neighborhood walk to enjoy the trees.  I had in mind a trek north between the two cemeteries and a hike through the woods on a trail that looped around before walking back home.  He had in mind a leisurely stroll.  I had in mind a brisk walk, because when the trees are orange, red and yellow, I want to be right in the middle of the forest under the glowing canopy.

We walked along the road.  We turned off onto the trail and climbed a hill.  We took a right turn at the correct place to loop around, but unknowingly I missed a second turn to take the loop I had in mind.  Instead we ended up trekking to the back of the forest and looping around.  I knew where I was most of the time, but I was a little uncertain about how the trail I was on would connect to the trail I wanted to be on to head back toward the road.  I was pretty sure they would connect, but not completely sure.  Meanwhile, we hopped over huge puddles, and mud pots covered in golden leaves that we didn’t realize were mud holes until we had squished down into them.  We inched down steep hills and at one point hopped over boards across what was almost a swamp, but really wasn’t.  It was all part of the trail, so I wasn’t worried.  Dr. Peds was a little frowny.

We ended up back on the trail I was expecting, which was great, but then I took a different turn again, thinking I was heading directly to the road, and we ended up in someone’s back yard next to the road.  Realizing we probably did need to be back on the straight path of the road, we cut across the back yards without incident, although I was hesitant and felt like a nasty trespasser.

When we got to the road I asked Dr. Peds what time it was.  He always wears a watch.  Except for Tuesday morning, apparently, when he left the house without his watch or his cellphone, so we had no idea what time it was at all, and we were more than a mile and a half away from home, with a boy who needed to be picked up at preschool in the somewhat near future.

We walked a bit more briskly.

Then I started thinking about how much extra time we probably had spent in the woods because of my wrong turn, even though we were clipping along.  And I started to realize that we had left an hour later than I normally leave for my Tuesday morning walk.  Then I remembered that the clock next to the door we left from has a battery that is dying, and currently runs 15 minutes slower than it should, which meant that we left even later than I had initially thought, and that sent me into a bit of a panic.

I started to walk even faster.  It was the same kind of walk my mother strides though  a shopping mall.  Fast.

Truly, there is nothing that sets me off, that sends me completely over the edge, than the fear of being late to pick up my children from an activity.

It was probably when I started slapping my head that my husband humorously realized that I was starting to freak out.

When I suggested that we run, he started laughing,  Because, of course, I don’t run.  And the notion of me all of the sudden running a mile and a half is well, preposterous.  I can walk very quickly, but run?  Probably not, even when highly motivated, especially since the road we were walking on was hilly.

So he said, “We could run?  I think you mean that I could run.”

And I sheepishly said, “Well, I suppose you could.”  And I picked up the walking pace a little more with a frantic look in my eyes.

Then he sighed, and laughed, and took off running the last mile and a half.

That, my friends is love.  Seasoned, deep and true love.

He ended up arriving home ten minutes before me, with plenty of time to get to the preschool for pick up.  I had enough time to scramble eggs and take a shower before my first student of the afternoon.