I miss my January walks.
I miss the clouds and the rain and the cold wind as it grabs my face.
I miss the sound of my own footsteps.
I miss the towering trees, my friends the trees.
I miss the road before me, ever welcoming my journey.
And the mist, precursor to beloved rain...
When my body is racked with pain, dear husband holds my hand as we walk as one.
I miss our walks in January.
I miss our walks in January.
Winter owns January!
When the temperature drops,
we can no longer walk!
Thank you for coming along with me on my pretend walk.
When it is 17 degrees outside, all I can do is pretend and
miss my January walk.
Love,
