Our family long walk takes us nowhere. We always end up right where we began: at home.

It is what happens along the way that matters. We never make a plan. Sometimes we talk things through. Sometimes we tell stories. Sometimes nobody says a word.

The way is always the same: up our dirt road, along the paved streets, over the winding marsh path, up the wooden steps, back onto the paved road, and down our dirt road to home. What we encounter is different each time. That perfect stick for our dog Stella. A soaring hawk. The nature-striped, Cape Cod horizon of marsh grass / sandy dune /white-capped ocean/ and cloudless blue sky. An abandoned horseshoe crab shell. And yesterday – two white swans.

My favorite part is always the silence that wraps around us as we walk together, each lost in our own thoughts, mirroring the water’s edge, snuggled by the same blanket of empty time and open space.

This morning – Christmas morning – my son Patrick gifted me a handmade card drawn in black ink. The picture he sketched was of our long walk. Comforting to know he feels the same way about the times we have walked the path together. Today on our walk I am going to hold my wife’s hand and slow us down a bit so we can watch our two boys make their way ahead of us. Watching your children find their way in the world while circling back home is really as good as it ever gets.

Peace,

Chris