People often think it's ludicrous for me to walk to work. Not because of the distance. It's only a half hour. But because of the time commitment. The uncertain weather. The wind that pelts my face perilously (and predictably) every evening home.
"Im sorry you have to walk today," said tonight's client as he left the office at 6.
"Dark and ugly."
Funny, I though. Looked peaceful to me.
For a girl who often works 12 hour days, an extra half hour on both ends can be daunting. But there's therapy in those steps.
Tonight, after a long day of scrambling, phone calls, deadlines, mistakes, questions, and a to-do list that didn't get even one line shorter but grew exponentially, the walk was like an hour on a couch with a counsellor, an afternoon tea with a friend, a hike through the bold, bright rainforest, a run on the sea wall, and bootcamp at sunrise all rolled in to one.
With purse on shoulder, accounting paperwork in hand, tomorrow's presentation in my backpack, and my sweet yet psychotic dog on leash, I opened the doors at Homer and Pender and set foot home. It was 8 pm. The sky was black. The city was aglow. the breeze was cool and almost still. And a homeless man with a shopping cart full of possessions waved hello (which was sweet until a rickety wheel sent Harley into a tailspin of anxiety.)
I turned right on to Homer.
The Italian barber across the street was sitting in the window, customer-less, cutting an apple with a knife.
A beautiful woman in a tan shawl and stilettos ran up and hugged a man in nice shoes and an ugly coat in front of the Opus Hotel. Harley darted left then right. Then forward then left. Her ears perked. Her tail curled tightly under her belly.
I laughed. Out loud.
"Your nuts," I said. And gave her a pat.
She gave me a knowing look: "I'm nuts? You're the one talking to a dog!"
We carried forth.
The traffic hummed.
A mass of people exited the Chinatown SkyTrain station at once.
Harley and I morphed into the masses and crossed the Cambie parking lot in anonymity.
We passed the Terry Fox memorial that Douglas Coupland designed and installed this year.
I always pause there.
It's quite something.
Onto the bridge, the wind picked up in its signature style. Harley panicked as a bag rolled toward us like plastic tumbleweed.
To the left: East Vancouver all aglow. ScienceWorld like a disco ball. Rowers paddling in the bay. The ferry taking the last passengers across. To the right: UBC to the South and Downtown to the North. Lights everywhere. Black sky. Pretty.
I stopped to take a picture (night time pictures never turn out).
And, right then, a big fat rain drop splashed on my cheek.
Then another.
And another.
Mother nature loves to throw curve balls on the walk home.
And although my pants were soaked, my accounting papers damp and wilted, and Harley rank with Wet Dog smell, that walk was the best part of my day.
Probably will be tomorrow too.
