Truthfully, I’m not sure what bits of my week want to be reflected on, so this is as much a journey of surprise for you as it is for me. Let’s see where we go…

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Still fresh on my mind is the concert I attended last night: James Taylor and Jackson Browne. I went to bed singing “Up on a Roof” and woke up singing “Take It Easy.” The latter might surprise you, but the absolute biggest thrill during the show (aside from James’ son Henry joining him for the second encore in a duet) was Jackson and James doing that iconic Eagles song. Originally written by Jackson for his first album, he reluctantly allowed Glenn Frey to finish it (because he liked it so much), and the rest is history…if you know The Eagles, that is. It amazes me that this particular song came out in ’72 when I was barely a year old. It’s as old as me. Or I’m as old as it. Let’s just say we’ve both aged well. But to see James channeling Glenn and Jackson’s lyrical alchemy on stage is a memory I never imagined. It reinforces what gifts both of the have been to music. What a blessing to have gotten to see it for myself.

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Also fresh on my mind is mom, who had a heart procedure on Thursday and is already back to bossing dad around and feeling guilty asking me to do household chores. Personal details aside, I again learned more about my parents in quiet conversation in the last few days that has made me wonder if others have the same types of talks with their elders. I am so blessed to have parents who a) are still here, even when they drive me nuts, b) who are willing to be open and vulnerable about their own lives to show me how to do that more myself and c) are certifiably crazy and know the value of laughter in a family is as important as love. Some subjects we dove into: death (again), disease (again), aging and perspective (briefly), the marvels of modern medicine (fascinating) and a near-death experience in the past (this one and its accompanying commentary shocked me, but in a good way, because it was a topic the subject had never shared with anyone, even the other spouse of 52 years). Again, what a lucky girl I am to have these people in my life.

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Looking outside my east window, I’m noticing the frost sparkle off my crabapple tree as the sun has decided to fully show itself today instead of lingering behind the heavy, dark blue clouds of an early Midwestern winter. I will be excited when real winter arrives here. Frost is not winter, it is simply a veiled attempt at winter. Last night, I only had to wear a sweater to the concert, and I parked about half a mile from the arena. That is not winter. I want to be wearing at least a hoodie and earmuffs. I won’t speak it out loud for fear of being considered old, but those snow drifts we used to wade through on our way to and from school (not uphill, however)–those are what I want. Even some bracingly cold wind chills would be welcomed. I know, I’m weird. I’m ok with that. I like my winters cold, but that may be only a notion of the past at this point in the global warming game.

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I haven’t been journaling (morning pages, for those who know) as much lately. I am not sure why this is. I have still been getting up in the early morning hours, generally something starting with 4, but not feeling the urge to scrawl the fountain pen across the blue-lined pages. I haven’t felt the need. I even tried yesterday, but only sputtered out a half-dozen sentences before calling it quits. It isn’t affecting my creative process–I’m working on an amazing new project and inspired in every moment of it, but the daily pages have ceased to have pull. I am choosing to see it as a meditative practice rather than a self-shaming situation. Like all things in life, there is an ebb and flow, a movement and retreat, an action and a pause. Just seems like the pause when it comes to daily journaling hits the heart harder, and to force it is only an effort in futility.

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Yesterday before leaving mom’s to go to the concert, I hit the pavement for 5 miles on the trail that runs behind their house. Part of the Ohio to Erie Trail connecting Cleveland to Cincinnati, their little leg of 13 miles, the Kokosing Gap Trail, is possibly the most beautiful stretch of reclaimed rail bed trail in the world. Also, I might be biased, as I spent much of my childhood walking it in the days when it was still tracks. Even then I loved walking for hours without a destination, so I always leave time to walk it when I’m home. I intended to walk five moderately-paced miles yesterday, but a torrential downpour at mile 1.95 changed it into a 4 mile walk. Mind you, it was barely 50 degrees, so I was in a long-sleeved tee with a jacket I took at the very last moment. I can only imagine what I would have looked like to passers-by (there were none) at the end of that rainstorm: a soggy, wet rat, but it wasn’t cold and walking in rain so hard it was difficult to see the path in front of me afforded me some of the most memorable moments I’ve had in a while from a walk. One was the line of trees on Stull Rd., still clinging to their crisp, red autumn leaves that I had helped my dad tend when they were first planted (dad is an original trustee of the trail, and he and mom are volunteer caretakers who do daily maintenance). When they were still baby saplings, I rode in the golf cart with dad to water them a few times over the summer. How rewarding that they have become tall, strong, teenage trees. The second was even more breathtaking, after the rains subsided: a pair of eagles soaring and gliding on the wicked windy breeze just over those trees and the quarry lake behind them. Between the dark skies, darker clouds, and an inadequate iPhone camera, the only place you can see that image is in my mind, but it’s definitely a gift that will stay for walks to come.

The featured image for this post is the stone arch that graces the trail, easily the most iconic spot. When I meet cyclists and other trail aficionados around the state and we talk about the trail, the arch is always the main point of conversation. I am always proud to say that’s exactly where I grew up and give a little trail history. You can take the girl off of the trail, but you can’t take the nerd out of the girl.

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Whatever memories you’ve created this last week, carry them forward in your heart with clarity of their creation. Wishing you a wonderful week forward–

Beth