There's a park close to my house where the sunsets last a bit longer and the moonrise is a bit brighter. If asked, I'd pull the moon down and give it as a gift. On the dirt and paved trails crossing rolling hills are where I trained for two Ironmans. This is the preserve I run in, fly kites in, listen to jazz in, chase fly balls hit by a seven year old in. Last year I followed pig-tails blowing in the breeze on top of a bike with training wheels. Nowadays, the pig tails remain sans the training wheels.
This is the place I go to do any of those things.
Tonight I did none of those things.
Tonight I walked through piles of maple leaves and sat in a pavilion perched above the hills.
It's been days since I felt complete. Four days to be exact. As if the half that makes me whole was missing.
Tomorrow I'll be back at the track. Somehow the oval straightens things out.