After dinner, I decided to talk my usual evening walk, and yet I was debating with myself because it was 27 degrees in this early wintertime. I bundled up and stepped outside and noticed a rabbit scurrying to a safer place. The wind was gentle coming from the southwest and I was feeling cold. I could go back inside the building and get my steps with vigor in warmth, but as I walked, I quickened my steps. I crossed into the Harborview apartment complex and noticed that the wind was absent, which would make me stay outdoors longer than I intended. I noticed there were no cars and I hadn’t yet seen a pedestrian. I was almost to the ocean. My intent was to make some phone calls, but I realized it was too quiet to break the silence with a phone conversation. I simply walked. The ocean was still, the harbor endorsed serenity, the air no longer felt cold. The walk seemed like a present to me, like the stillness one enjoys on Christmas Eve, when everyone is nestled into their homes in coziness. I felt that coziness, and this seemed to be the Christmas Eve walk I typically take each year, except the rain kept me from doing so. A few more rabbits darted about and the ocean air was fresh while the ocean’s waves were not even lapping the shore. I enjoyed this moment. The night was all mine. I walked the boardwalk that led to the cupola and I breathed in the cold air. My chin was warm because I did not need the mask to cover my nose because I was the solitary figure at the beach. I choose my route to walk the length of the harbor that leads back to my residence, 3.5 miles in all. I crunched a few mounds of icy snow and continued on. Still, no wind, and I felt warm. The silence even extended into the ocean – no boats, no ships, not even the sound of a bird. I walked steadily, taking some stops along the way to marvel at the harbor. I passed by the presidential library and heard my first sound – the cables to the mast where the sailing flag was flown, but that sound soon dissipated and I was alone in silence again. I felt delight that I was experiencing this marvelous night. I passed no soul, not even the Brazilian fishermen. Not a soul. This was for my enjoyment, and I walked. I turned the corner of the harbor walk and was nearly half a mile from home when I heard overhead geese returning to our lawn. The wind picked up but remained steady. It was a night worth spending outdoors. Just me and the ocean. Five hundred yards from home, I saw the only car, and I passed by a few more rabbits, and I was home once again. Warm, and happy.
