Monday Night

Like last week, I started this one with a bang. Although the lazy bug hit hard when I made it home and started watching the Finebaum Show, by the grace of God I overcame it and hit the streets after dark for a nice leisurely walk. With the super moon above, a slight snap to the air, and Christmas lights everywhere, the nighttime stroll was delightful. "It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas/all over town." The quietness that still inhabits Greenwood, Mississippi invites relaxation, enjoyment. True, the nights aren't as quiet as they once were. But the occasional gunfire, thumping music, and police sirens aside, outside after dark can be blissful in our quaint little town. 

I stayed in the neighborhood most of the walk, but after finding myself on the Yazoo River levee, I crossed the Keesler Bridge and walked the lonely Front Street with all of the Viking buildings covered in white lights and looking like they belonged in a movie set. Greenwood is nice like that. Then I made my way out of downtown and back into the residential section by crossing south over the Popular Street Bridge. I know that one has a name, but I don't know it or never bothered to learn. The locals always called it "the new bridge" even though it has been there my whole life, and I have lived in the town sixty-one years. It may have been built when I was a very young boy. A lot of things like that are very fuzzy in my memory.

I love the anonymity of being on foot after dark. There is no embarrassment over pace or protruding belly, no shame over tacky clothing. However, I wish desperately I could run. Slowly, I am attempting to get back to it. It has been a full year since I was able to do real shuffling. Little by little, though, I have been adding a few snippets of the old-man shuffle into my walks. Last night, I did eighty-five steps per leg. I didn't measure that, I just counted the steps. I am beginning to believe I will get the running back. I have to lose weight, a lot of it, or I will break down again.

I heard no wings, big wings last night. That's one of the things I like about Greenwood after dark, and it is also one way walking is a little better than running. I rarely hear large birds of prey while my feet scuff the pavement and my breathing is labored. But when walking . . . . Owls, a lot of them, work the night shift in the large trees and lightless skies of our little hamlet. I presume they live on the river and make their living in town like their human neighbors. Just an assumption. Sometimes I hear the giant feathers beating in the trees above. Once I heard a squirrel squeal as if he were being murdered. Another time one flew overhead so low that I ducked. The whistling his wings made sticks in my memory like a pretty woman's face or a young child's laugh. When can I have that again? Two weeks ago I saw a raccoon on Grand Blvd. A couple of times I have seen a grey fox. With a leash law in effect for a decade or two, the animals, the wild ones, have their run of the town.

I go out. Maybe God will give me owl wings or a coon face again or a fox. That's better than TV any day. Or night that is.