And on we walked
Once again in the 'how Charlie motherhood has changed me' vein, which is pretty much a constant theme behind this blog:
Monday was a day of teaching, teaching, talking and more teaching from 9 to 5, give or take a minute here and there. In Elementary Latin, we needed to finish going through all six tenses of verbs in the passive voice and review the active voice forms (I made handouts—-nothing like visual aids that you can hold and scribble on). Then translating from Virgil's Aeneid with another student. Then various advisory matters during which I had to wonder for the thousandth time why it requires about 5 steps to retrieve a voice mail from my office phone. More passive voice and then working on a letter and a report and more talking (involving this book so of course I couldn't keep myself from going on and on). Then attending a mini-symposium with some 20 students giving brief presentations on their topics for their senior theses next year.
Add the fact that yesterday was still unseasonably hot (in the 80s) and steamy with rain in sheets falling out of murky gray skies while the sun shone down—many a mega-puddle required gutter-jumping to go from and to the PATH train in Jersey City; I'm afraid I turned on the air-conditioning in my office, which is in a rather agèd five-story brick building that once upon a time housed apartments and whose walls and doorframes regularly expand and contract with the humidity so the doors don't shut.
I was more than glad to see the white car, Jim and Charlie in tow, pull up across from the train station just before 6.30pm.
No sooner had Jim parked in front of our house than Charlie asked for a walk. He'd already led Jim on a 12 mile bike ride, looping back and forth in the streets, pedaling pell-mell. I ran in to set down my bags in the house and change my shoes and off we went. Jim betook himself to the grocery store to get a few items.
As Charlie and I neared the path beside the field where turning right means 'long' and turning left means 'short and towards home, Charlie set his head down and — mindful of last night's kerfluffle — turned right.
I noted that the sun was out and bright and it was fine to go further, if he'd like.
Charlie directed his steps right.
We moved slowly past many a leashed dog and her or his owners, under the train trestle, over some railroad tracks, across the barren parking lot. It was warm, and I walked behind Charlie.
And a light wind came down from off the treetops, and it was quiet, and we moved on.