One More Block

The sun is on the roofs when I leave home. My side of the street is still shaded, and the air is cool. I take the long way around the block, past the crossing. Somewhere ahead, a broom scrapes the concrete.

At the light, I wait while a delivery truck turns. Its back wheels clear the crossing, and the walk signal comes on. Then I cross. My arms swing at my sides. I feel each foot meet the pavement and roll forward.

“I feel no pain and no discomfort.”

A neighbor is sweeping the walk in front of her house. She draws the broom aside and says good morning. I answer. She has swept a small pile of leaves against the curb. I step around it. The bristles start moving again before I reach the next driveway.

“I am at peace. I’m safe in my own body.”

The street climbs for half a block. I shorten my steps and take it at a pace I can keep. My breathing deepens as I climb, then settles near the top. The shade ends. I feel the sun on my face.

“We don’t resist, we relax.”

On the way back, the woman has finished sweeping. She tips the leaves into a paper yard bag. Her broom rests beside the door. I pass the crossing again. The walk signal is already on, so I keep moving. I turn onto my street, where the light has reached the sidewalk.

“Clear mind, strong heart.”

I reach my front porch. The door is only a few steps away.