Walking. That miracle.

Today for the first time in thirty days I went for a walk in my neighborhood.*

It was sheer bliss to be out, to feel wind on my skin again, to move my body. I didn’t want to stop, but I turned around after about fifteen blocks, and by the time I got home, I was ready to sit down. But oh, it felt good to move.

I caught the last of the ornamental cherries in blossom (almost missed them this year), but my favorite photo is this grid of vault lights at my feet. I thought of Andy Warhol.
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* I wore the mask Cristina made, with a coffee filter insert between the two layers of cotton. I didn’t touch my face. I encountered about fifteen people, and everyone I saw was masked. All were careful to keep more than six feet between themselves and anyone else. Back home, I disinfected the soles of my shoes and washed my hands for a long time.