W is for WALK

I am in love with a boy named Clark.

Clark and I took a walk together one recent summer afternoon, and I’ve barely started to write about that memory, and already my heart skipped a beat. Have you ever been in love with a boy? Then you know exactly how I feel.

When you walk with a boy like Clark, you quickly realize you’re not walking, but rather you’re exploring, discovering, and being present. Clark made his intentions clear: We were in search of the letter W, and STOP signs. S-T-O-P stop.

Here are just a few things we discovered during our walk:

1. Two STOP signs
2. Five Ws
3. Lots of caterpillars
4. One big J
5. A license plate with the letters A-A-M
6. A dog
7. My daughter receiving praise from two-year-old Clark on her excellent wagon-pulling skills

When our walk came to a stop, our choice of  presence did not. We still needed to write our letters in chalk, but not before Clark took a moment to lean up against the car to pause, to breathe, to be. Our letter-writing was with great deliberation because rushing something as remarkable as the alphabet is simply a waste.

Did you know that a few sticks – when placed together on the sidewalk – can form virtually every letter of the alphabet? Clark showed me: Y, X, A, N, T, Z, K, and the list goes on.

Have you looked up to watch the last airplane that crossed high above you? Clark pointed.

Do you know the joy ringing a doorbell can bring? Clark does.

Want to touch a caterpillar and feel it instantly coil into a ball? Clark did.

Does your giggle put a smile on someone else’s face? Clark’s does.

Can you effortlessly communicate instantaneous love? Clark is.

I want to live my life, pulling a virtual wagon with Clark sitting in it encouraging me, “Mimi do it!”, as he clutches a piece of chalk in his hand – ready to write his letters as soon as we see an opening on the sidewalk.

Perhaps I need to more frequently S-T-O-P stop, lean back, and breathe, keeping a ready supply of chalk to write my letters, my loves, my laughs, my life, before my presence has faded or washed away. Clark showed me how.


  1. Barbara Johann says

    You DO really love my first grandson. He calls for you often and with great caring in his voice. You have captured his wonder and brilliance in your words. Thank you for caring so deeply for my dear Clark – he is blessed by your presence in his life.
    Barbara J.

  2. Kathy Collier says

    Oh what a wonderful gift you have. I am so thankful that you have the wisdom and selflessness to share it with us. I am now a faithful subscriber.

    Your words bring crinkly smiles, deep, deep sighs and balance. For those of us who are learning daily how to just be, your words are a blessing.


    • says


      I am delighted to have remet you last week, and I thank you for not only reading, but for sharing your impression with the rest of us.

      I firmly believe that “being” takes a daily effort for each of us.

      I look forward to lots more interaction with you.

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