On my way to the farmer’s market I realized how nice it was to walk alone. It isn’t something I do often these days. I almost always have a dog with me, or a husband or friend, or both. True, I do walk home from work on a regular basis but that feels like a commute. I am in a hurry to get to my destination, every block feels like a mile. It is rare for me to wander by myself on a Saturday morning with no particular schedule.
I took my time. Smile at the woman leaving the market with an armful of sunflowers. Chatted with another waiting with her Weimaraner outside. I maintained this leisure as I entered the crowded building. It was lovely to explore with only myself to please. There was no one to consult, no one for whom I had to wait, and no one to get impatient if I lingered overlong at the cheese counter.
I love sharing my life with my family. There is not a day I am not grateful and I never resent their presence. Yet, every once in a while, I think it is good for me to take off on journeys alone, to remember the other parts of me. If nothing else, it makes going home again even sweeter.