I missed my walk today. My feet left the house, but I lingered inside my mind––paying the gas bill, shopping for new shoes, composing a grocery list. In my absence, maybe my feet admired the willow around the corner, relished the crunch of broken acorns and reassured the hound dogs that bayed a warning from behind their fence. My walk ended before I caught up. At the front door, I chastised myself for thinking. I clutched the doorknob and the promise of greater attention tomorrow.
A cardinal whistled, reminding me that tomorrow . . . nothing needs to change. And everything will.
A cardinal whistled, reminding me that tomorrow . . . nothing needs to change. And everything will.