Don’t cry for me

One of my colleagues sidled up beside me yesterday and said, “Lisa, I cried for you yesterday.”  In absolute shock, I looked at her and asked why.  She told me that she was driving home from an errand and saw me walking home from work the day before and it made her cry.  I stopped walking, turned to look her square in the eye, and said, “You should have been crying for yourself because you weren’t out there walking with me!”

We both laughed.

Although we parted ways laughing, the conversation bothered me.  She is an avid walker and logs just as many, sometimes more, miles a week as me.  My walking home from work bothers her and I don’t understand why.   

I get sad when I think about the day (next weekend) that the truck will be fixed and Hub won’t have to take me to work anymore.  With both vehicles fully functional again, will I stick to my routine and continue to walk home from school?  

I think I will.

Why, you ask?

Because one of the counselors asked me if she can start walking home with me a few nights a week.

Cool, isn’t it?  I think so!

Hub didn’t go to school Thursday night and drove past me out on the parkway.  I was almost home.  He stopped on the next cross street and asked if I wanted a ride.  Since I was almost home, I hopped in.  I don’t think I would have if he had seen me sooner.  I really do enjoy the walk home and I had had a really stressful day.  The 50-55 minutes it takes me to get from school to home is enough time to pound out the stresses of the day and start thinking “happy thoughts.”

I asked him how he recognized me.

He said, “Well, I saw this woman walking REALLY fast wearing a pink backpack and I knew it was you.”   


I looked at him with a pout and asked, “You mean you didn’t recognize my sexy calves?”

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