A Caregiver's Walking Memories

Dear Romeo,

I went for a walk this morning, as I do regularly. But today I thought of you the entire rest of the day. I thought of how you loved to go for walks. I thought of how I love to go for walks. I remembered how we would go for walks together, how we would walk everywhere.

Our first meeting, we met for afternoon tea, sat and talked for a couple of hours, then you suggested a walk. That made me smile. We walked up and down the Boulder Creek path, sat on a boulder down by the water. How many times we've walked that path since, I don't know. Countless.

Since the very beginning, we held hands as we walked. That is, we held hands as you walked and I floated a few inches off the ground. I was elated to be with you. I wanted to hold your hand forever, to walk with you side-by-side forever. Our joy accompanied us on our walks.

On my walks now, without you, your presence sometimes pops in and accompanies me part of the way. Other times, I call up your presence and you stay with me a little while. But you always leave, and I finish the walk on my own, remembering how you loved to go for walks, how I love to go for walks, and how we would walk everywhere together.

A Late Walk
by Robert Frost

When I go up through the mowing field,
The headless aftermath,
Smooth-laid like thatch with the heavy dew,
Half closes the garden path.

And when I come to the garden ground,
The whir of sober birds
Up from the tangle of withered weeds
Is sadder than any words

A tree beside the wall stands bare,
But a leaf that lingered brown,
Disturbed, I doubt not, by my thought,
Comes softly rattling down.

I end not far from my going forth
By picking the faded blue
Of the last remaining aster flower
To carry again to you.