I swore, when I realized I was destined to replace both my God-given hips with two metal cyborg stand-ins, to make the absolute most of my upgrade. I decided (after consulting with my husband) to become an intentional walker.
What this means is walking not as exercise, but walking to a destination, with hints of pilgrimaging and contemplative movement thrown in. I cast around for a name for this new endeavor, but anything using “walker” conjured up images of The Walking Dead with its disgusting soundtrack (which you notice more when you’re simply listening, not watching, but that’s another post all together.) It took me a while, but finally I landed on a winner: day-tripper.
We (because my husband is nothing if not a trooper) began our new day-tripping life with Crescent Park.
Crescent Park, the name of which is a play on New Orleans’ Crescent City nickname, runs along the Mississippi River. The park is identified by its own crescent, an image I’ll share later. We’ve walked sections of the park before (Evangeline’s favorite off-leash dog park is along the walkway) but today we did the whole enchilada.
We began at the beginning.
which I didn’t—I made it over and arrived on the river side of the levee
where we watched the mammoth ships pass
and walked to directly behind our apartment
Did I mention the temperature was in the upper 90s? It was hot. The air descended on you like a blanket; a searing wind dried the sweat from your skin. I remembered that heat could kill you—overheat your brain, zap you into oblivion before you knew what hit you. I prayed for stamina, aided by a street sign:
My prayers were fervent . . . those steps in the background were how you exited the park.
An ending that sent me scurrying to the air-conditioned, coke-serving, shaded Markey’s Bar
and finally home. A successful beginning, I thought. After all, I was still alive, wasn’t I?