Did you really count?

That’s the reaction I get every time I mention that it takes me 752 steps one way.

It’s a mixed bag, but the resulting reaction is the same from everyone.

First, there is disbelief that I actually counted my steps.

Followed by an amazement that I have to walk that far.

I have been walking those meditative steps for several years and they always lead me to the same destination.

It is usually a very quiet walk. I can let my mind either gear up or slow down depending on the time of day. Most of the time I don’t even hear people when they talk to me because I am so caught up in the wanderings of my own thoughts.

Light-hearted sometimes.

Sentimental other times.

I have an overflowing river of memories.

It is easy to get lost in memories of my beautiful daughter and the opportunity I have been given to be her mother. The sweet sound of her soft voice, her radiant eyes and the smell of her skin. It is embedded in the very essence of my soul. Sometimes as I hug her goodnight, I breathe in the scent…the scent of my child. No longer baby oil and powder, but still just as lovely. It is a fragrance filled and brimming with memories that even heaven couldn’t match.

Then there are other times, when there are bursts of sweet recollections of my mother with smooth, unwrinkled skin, her face full of youth and her long, soft flowing hair, standing in the doorway calling my name. The peace I would feel knowing she was always right there if I needed her.

Quietly, like wide-winged butterflies in a summer garden, my childhood days spent visiting my grandfather hover near to my heart. His ever watchful eye as we played H-O-R-S-E with the basketball and hoop that was in the back yard. The way we would sneak into the garden to check his beautiful vegetables and pick turnips or cucumbers, hide from my grandmother and eat them.

Long after what should have been my bedtime, I still hear the crinkling noise of the bag being slowly pulled open so no one else would hear of our mischief and watched as my grandmother poured M&M’s into my tiny hand with the flaming red polished fingernails that she had painted for me as I sat trying so hard not to move earlier that day.

Shortly, lost in a world of emotions, I will walk 752 steps to my office where with gratitude, I will tuck away the fond and tender memories of my life and begin a new day at work.

Memory… is the diary that we all carry about with us.

~Oscar Wilde~


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Sherry Riter is also known as The Redhead Riter. Sherry is witty, intelligent and addictive as she writes about cooking, family, marriage, failures, blogging tips, art, humor, inspiration, travel, PTSD and aging. Her goal is to inspire, motivate, educate and to make her audience laugh. Sherry embraces being a redhead and helps others to see the redhead point of view…"In some eras redheads were worshipped while others thought us witches. Personally, I like the former and think every day is 'Love a redhead day!'" She can also be found on Facebook, Google+, Pinterest, StumbleUpon, Linkedin, tweeting as @TheRedheadRiter and you can subscribe to her free blog feed.

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