My MIL is in the hospital with pneumonia, so fall is truly here. When we took her her chair (a whole story in and of itself, that I won’t get into because it’s just petty and frustrating) she was sick, and took a nitroglycerin tablet while we were there. Maybe she needed it, but it’s just “Oh, I didn’t expect to see you for a while … I need my nitro….. but I’m so glad you’re here.” Bugs me.

ANYWAY. MIL is sick, which is one of her two hobbies; the other is doing puzzles. Other than that she doesn’t DO anything. She’s old, sure, but my grandma has ten years on her and decided at 79 to learn how to knit, and joined a “Sip n’ stitch,” where she meets every week with a group of women of all ages to drink wine and knit. She bought a recumbent exercise bike when her knees were done at 78, and she exercises every day. She’s beautiful, and healthy, and has a life. My MIL, though, doesn’t. Her other hobby, after “doing puzzles” and “getting sick” is “giving up basic living activities” like “taking stairs” or “holding a jug of milk.” (Interestingly, this leads to lots of “needing help” and the whole thing is just annoying. And frustrating. And also, life affirming.

Seeing my MIL like that always reminds me to get off my ass and DO SOMETHING. After weeks like this one, ass-getting-off-of isn’t always my first priority, but this morning, I did. I told Dave to wait til I got back to shower, and I pulled on my jeans and a fleece, and my sneakers, and I hit the sidewalk.

I love walking, it’s ridiculous that I don’t do it every day, and I should. I don’t want to end up like my MIL, I want to be strong and healthy like my grandmother, I want to be healthy for my kids. Today, it was beautiful. Not too hot, not too cold. I walked up 15th, cut across to 14th, then 13th. I walked around the back of Mansfield Stadium and I headed to the playing fields between the two schools near my house. The whole time, I was thinking about the future. I stopped at Fairmount to swing.

Here is where I’ll take you on hot summer days and mild spring ones. I’ll take you down the big slide on my lap until you can go by yourself. I’ll never threaten to never bring you back, like that lady is doing right now. I’ll walk you over to the baseball games, if you like that, and I’ll get you a hot dog once you eat real food. And here, this will be your school. I’ll walk you here on your first day, and I’ll worry about you on your walk home. I’ll curse that hedge for making it a blind entrance, and I’ll remind you a hundred times to look both ways. When it’s time to move across the field to the other school, you probably won’t want me there. You’ll learn to ride your bike on the street we live on, and the first time I let you go to the store alone, I’ll worry until you get home. And when you decide to come, I will be ready. And if it’s not today, that’s okay. But I’ll be waiting for you when you do, and I will show you all of this. This will be your world.