A Slow Walk

I love a good walk. I put my headphones on, listen to a book or a podcast, and I can go four miles easy…just lost in the surroundings and whatever I'm listening to.

I haven’t been on many walks lately. I guess with caregiving… I don’t know. It’s just one of those things that quietly got pushed aside. But recently, I felt that nudge to start again. I knew it wouldn’t be the same kind of walk, not with my husband, but I decided to take him with me anyway. It would be slower, a little less predictable, but it’s good for me. It’s good for him. 

There’s a really cute little park nearby with a gravel path that loops around it. It’s always busy, full of joggers and strollers. Wayne was excited at the idea of going. So we laced up our shoes and headed out the door.

Things are different when I go on a walk with my husband. For starters, the pace is less aerobic and more casual stroll. He usually walks behind me, even when I try to stay beside him. He’s constantly looking around, so observant of everything. He’ll stop dead in his tracks to examine a leaf or a rock. He notices the clouds, the trees, the way the light filters through the branches.

There’s something very wholesome about it.

So, I don’t rush.

We stopped on the little bridge and noticed the fish swimming in the stream below. When we finally made it back to our car, I checked my watch, which had been counting our steps. I laughed. It literally took me twice as long to go the same distance with him as my walking buddy.

But I’m okay with that too.

His slower pace helps me slow down. Helps me to be present in the moment.  To enjoy and appreciate what I typically speed past.  Dementia, for all its challenges, sometimes offers unexpected gifts…if you're willing to receive them.

We came home with a pocket full of little rocks he’d collected along the way. Wayne took a nap, and I sat next to him thinking I definitely needed that walk even more than I realized.