Hopping Down The Bunny Trail

I rise early and look at my phone.  I had taken a beautiful photo of daffodils the day before and wanted to post an Easter message on Facebook.  While the phone is conveniently in my hand, I also send a text to Craig noting that in spite of it being a Holy Day I felt compelled to share an irreverent thought with him. Flirtation deftly accomplished, I will myself to an upright position and make myself presentable for Mass.  I have a fabulous dress and heels to don in keeping with tradition, but have skipped the hat since Hil laughed to the point of tears when she saw it.

Am dismayed beyond description to find as I turn to sit in the first pew that Casey (Casey of foul breath and bad humor fame) is seated across the aisle a few rows back.  I begin furiously fanning myself with the special program I'd been handed so as to not have actual beads of sweat form on my brow at the notion that Casey will no doubt spend the better part of the next hour looking directly at my ass.  Stifle the urge to raise my hand and get the attention of Monsignor and squeal, "Father! Father! Impure thoughts in row 6!" 

After Mass I race home, slam down some coffee, change into typically unforgiving workout gear, grab my iPhone and head to the State Park. It is a glorious Easter Sunday and spring has begun to spring out of every crevice of the park. I am going to love every minute of the walk.  However, it appears that Craig has not responded to my flirtation. And it would be a tough one to ignore.  But ignore it he has.  WTF?

The park is lovely and there is a beautiful Peace mural near the entrance that I photograph and post as I check in on FB.  Craig immediately "likes" it...but while the phone is conveniently in HIS hand, he does not take the time to shoot back and equally enticing flirtatious text in response to mine.  "Why the hell not?" I screech in my head taking the Lord's name silently in vain a few times as I do.

But as I make my way up the mile long hill and say hello to all the others I pass, my anger and frustration fade and I begin to make note of all the little changes in the park, even since yesterday. The turkey buzzards have come out. There are chipmunks everywhere.  Nests are starting to appear in the branches of the trees that are just beginning to bud. 

And then I pass a man coming up the final hill as I descend it.  He is pushing a very disabled teenaged boy in a wheelchair up the hill.  He is in a full sweat.  He is huffing. The child is clearly enjoying the feel of the sun on his face and the breeze through the trees. 

And I suddenly am overwhelmed with gratitude for all that I have that I so routinely take for granted. The simple fact that I can even walk these trails, unassisted and at will is such a gift.  

I return to my car deep in thought and as I climb in, I notice that I still have two unopened bottles of water on my front seat.  I grab them and get out. 

Practically sprinting, I return to the trails, this time, going the reverse route. The direction the man and the boy were going.  I step up the pace and double time nearly a mile and a half. Eventually I overtake them.

I slow for a minute so I can catch my breath.  And then I approach them.  "Good morning, again," I say.  "Happy Easter. You may have these if you like." I had the man the bottles of water.

He smiles and takes the water.  Stowing one and opening the other. "Thanks so much," he says, a little surprised. 

Not wanting to make him feel like I pitied him, I turn and head off, and mutter something like, "I've had my fill already. Enjoy!"  I keep going as though I'd planned to all along, as if doubling up on the hilly 5 mile loop was something I'd actually consider.

And I feel good enough about the good deed that I don't even care that as I make the turn 2 miles in, the sky opens up and it begins to torrentially rain.