reboot

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I’ve been walking a lot. It started as exercise for my body and has turned into that for my soul.

From my cocoon of worship music, silent pictures play out in front of me. There is a little girl with pig tails and bows carving out a watermelon bowl with a spoon. An older Hispanic man in slacks and a tie guides his wife in her grey dress suit down the sidewalk. An old Buick rumbles by. At least I imagine it rumbles, but I don’t hear it. Two girls, one on a scooter and the other jogging behind, pass me.

Above me, a cloud spreads across the sky in shadowed tufts, like someone above spilled popcorn.

The park is eerily quiet. It is usually coursing with families herding kids, runners and women pumping their arms as they walk. But today it is empty. Not even the wind dares enter, even though it had knocked branches against my window and pushed leaves through my back door only a half hour before. The trees in the low spot my path skirts stand hushed.

Back outside the walls the park seems to have, commotion rules. Two girls duck under an umbrella posted underneath a sprinkler. The vibration of a bass announces the passing of an SUV. A man combs the grass in his yard with a rake.

I pass a line of churches and the laundry mat labeled in Spanish and the apartment complex with the catholic candles that always burn in memory of a life lost. The peace of the park is a distant memory, like a dream.

Somehow from within the invisible envelope my music has created, I feel removed from it all. God uses this time repair the heartbreaks of the day, like a reboot.

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