Writing Through a Pandemic: Walking the Neighborhood

"If you're writing or editing or working on a book right now, it may be incredibly difficult because the future is so uncertain. But every word you put on paper is an affirmation of the fact that there will be a future. It's a profound act of faith." - Talia Lavin

At the very start of the pandemic I taught a few online generative classes in April, May and June to give my fellow writers deadlines and inspiration during what was an incredibly uncertain and destabilizing time. Everyone was so ready to write and the work we created together was joyful and complex and human. With permission, I’ll be sharing some of this writing over the next few weeks. Please help us celebrate what we created in the midst of so much destruction. 

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Walking the Neighborhood

The last time I walked the lengths of my neighborhood was in early March,  a memorial walk for our much loved Boxer, Roxy, who had died the week before.  She had lived a good long life; but we mourned.  She had been the focus of our day-to-day affection and our days were planned around her walks.

Today I stand at the front door and look out on a sunlit scene that sparkles.  The air is so clear – a gift of quarantine?  Our neighborhood is laid out in two interconnected circles.  Roxy and I often walked the smaller circle, and it was a high point of her day.  I took as much time over it as possible.  Well, honestly, I didn’t have much choice.  She was as stubborn as a mule.  She walked very slowly as she got older, and she paused and sniffed and rested wherever it suited her.  If I tried to make the distance shorter or speed her up, she resisted mightily.

Out the door we would go whatever the weather unless the rain was just pounding down.  Often it was down the hill to the left where we paused at the small pond - depending on the weather it can be muddy and still or sparkling and full of ripples.  For a number of years two ducks lived there – one black and one white.  I called them Harry and Betty.  They were mated and every spring they went through a ritual of protecting the nest, until the spring the fox came to the area.  The last couple of years only Harry has lived there, occasionally visited by a blue heron or seasonal geese.

After stopping there, Roxy and I would move on around the curve.  Spring brought the yellow Forsythia, first soft pinks, and as the weather warmed the bursts of magenta and reds.  This part of the walk was hot in summer.  The sun burned down on our backs.  Our goal was the extensive yard on the corner where we made our turn.  Gorgeous oaks sat near the street, and Roxy would head for their shade.  There we would rest, her sniffing the air and I spending a moment in meditation.  In whimsy I called the great oak “Mother Tree” and there offered my daily thanks for life’s abundance.

When convinced to move on, Roxy would roll onto her back with all four legs wiggling in the air.  She always had a huge grin on her face, and so we ambled to the next favorite spot.  The shade along this leg of the walk is more frequent and a breeze gets through.  One home is set back with a small bank near the street.  It has one of those gorgeous fir trees that remind me of Japanese paintings.  Here Roxy walked along the bank until she found the perfect spot, flipped onto her backside and slid down the small hill.  That done, she was ready to head home.

These walks were punctuated not only by the bright color of flowers, but by flashes of birds wings and their chatter I would look up into a Carolina blue sky and see a raptor floating on a hot current of air.

Whatever the season, we walked.  A few years ago the temperature was below zero and this colorful scene was covered in a white blanket.  Muffled up to my eyebrows, I paused at the pond to see Betty the duck snowshoeing across the middle with Harry fluttering after as if to say “no, no…come back.”  She was always the more adventurous one.  We came home that cold dreary day to light a candle and see its reflection flutter in the window as we looked out at a cold December afternoon. 

 Teres Wagner, Lexington, NC

Teres is a retired accounting professional who now has time to enjoy her interest in writing, nature, and art.  She attended Salem College and worked for a global manufacturing company.  As for Covid-19  she’s found the time at home an important time for reflection.