"Just let them pass." "What?" "They're running. Just let them go around us, because we're slow." I step to the side and tug at Aubreigh's shirt for her to come with me. We've done the entire path, including the part closed for repair, checked both bathrooms and two water fountains, the swings—down and back, and wiped a few benches dry with our shorts….the way back is always the slowest….she lags steps behind, me prodding, stopping, turning, walking backward—half encouraging—half begging. On our way "down" or "out"—or "away from the car," she ran yards ahead, blonde head pitched back, curls bouncing, giggles erupting, scaring ducks, causing incoming foot traffic to swerve to avoid her. Now she's slow, and I'm hungry, and we are so close—but yes, still, so far away.
I'm a mother, animal lover, teacher, librarian, writer, thinker, dreamer, former highschooldramaqueen, upcycling master, thrift store junkie, and Carrie on is my life, in a blog.