A Walk That Did Not Feel Like a Chore
Last week I went to the park with an older guy I sometimes see near the mission. It was not planned in any big way. We just ended up walking together, taking the long loop around the edges where the noise stays softer and people are less likely to rush past you.
I needed that. Some days in Denver feel like one long list of things to figure out. Where to sit. Where to wait. Where to find something useful before someone else takes it. But that walk felt different. It felt like we were just two people moving through the day, not trying to prove anything to anyone. 🙂
Birds in the Trees
He has a good eye for birds. He pointed out a few I had not noticed before, small quick ones hiding in the branches. I like birdwatching because it asks nothing from you. You just have to stand still enough and pay attention.
We did not talk the whole time. That was fine too. Sometimes silence with another person can feel awkward, but with him it was easy. He was not trying to fill the air. He just let the park be what it was.
Dry Cardboard Is a Small Kindness
When we passed a bench that looked damp, I showed him where I had seen a dry piece of cardboard nearby. It may not sound like much, but out here, small things matter. Dry cardboard can make a bench usable. It can keep your clothes from soaking through. It can make rest feel a little more dignified.
He smiled and said I was practical. Maybe I am stubborn too, but I think being resourceful is just how you keep some comfort for yourself when the city does not hand it to you.
Peace Without Being Asked for Anything
What stayed with me most was the peace of it. Nobody asked us to move along. Nobody asked for anything. We were not being photographed, watched, or treated like a problem. We were just outside, breathing, noticing trees and birds and the little useful things underfoot.
I think I carry that walk with me now. Not because it fixed anything, but because it reminded me that I still notice beauty. I still find ways to make a hard day a little softer. And I still know how to share what little I have, even if it is only a piece of cardboard and a quiet conversation.