The Walk Home

I've missed walking home from work. It was something I used to do all the time - living close to the city, it's always an option. Working near Spring Street it was a solid half an hour home on a good day. I've spent a lot of time working near Spring Street. 

Then I started working down the other end of town, down in the Docklands. It's not overly inspiring, but one of the good things is the train drops you at the door. The walk home, if you don't take a tram down to the other end of down, runs to an hour and a quarter at 

Now, I'm working down at Southbank, the walk feels long, even if it isn't. It's just a lot of traffic lights and waiting about. 

But I walked home for the first time in well over two years last night. 

Leaving work at 5 pm, I'd devised the route home. Winding my way through the Paris end of town, around the back of Parliament House, through the Fitzroy Gardens, saying hello to the fountain on Albert Street, then straight home.

It took an hour pretty much on the nose. 

And I'd forgotten how much I love this walk. How much I love walking. Just how good it is to be outside, in nature (even if it is in the city). I've missed passing little landmarks along the way. The Vietnamese Temple. The decorated equipment boxes. The early dog walkers. The pretty trees whose leaves are turning. The boot campers being made to run backwards through the park. They're all still there.  And as the shortest day of the year approaches, I got home just as the darkness really set in, arriving just as the cat's stomach was going into coniptions, as it does at six p.m. if he's not fed. 

As tomorrow looks like a good day for it, I might take my runners and do it all again. 

Today's Song: