“If your knees aren’t green by the end of the day, you need to seriously re-examine your life.” ~ Bill Watterson

The day before the day before the day before yesterday, my knees were green from kneeling on the ground in the backyard and digging for snails in the dirt. I stood and watched the Lara-dog roll in the grass, and I hula hopped in the wind.

The day before the day before yesterday, my clothes were soaked through because I went outside to scrub out the inside of my Jeep with hot water and soap. When I was tired, I sat in the yard at the base of a tree to journal in the sun.

The day before yesterday, my shoes and socks and pants below the knee were splattered with mud from the dirt road across the way because I – I needed to run, around the block, after work, because work had been infuriating and I needed to put something between work and home

And the next day my legs were so sore but the sun was shining so I pulled on a sweatshirt, and old leggings with holes the most. awkward. places, and I laced up my battered old shoes. I ran around the block, again, and it was like pushing through molasses because it’s been a while since I’ve asked my legs and heart and lungs to work like this. But they did what I asked of them, for two miles. And then I doubled over and caught myself thinking that I was feeling old

(and Stephanie burst out laughing, and Sara just looked at me over the tops of her glasses, and Trista sat up indignantly and demanded that, if I was old, what did that make her? and my father rolled his eyes and smiled. And I had to laugh, too.)

and the morning after that, I ran outside in boxer shorts and mud boots to take photographs of daffodils, first thing

And later I tried to run but the muscles in my legs were full of acid and there were tiny, sharp crystals building up at the ends of the veins. So I mostly walked around the block, in the cold and the wind and the rain.

By the time I made it back to my parents’ house, I was happy to be inside – to wash my clothes, take a shower, change into clean sweaters and fresh jeans.

Gratitude for running water, for hot water especially, for a washing machine and a drying machine at home. Thanks, Mom & Dad. I love you.

I’m stuck at home – by choice, for right now. But I don’t have to be stuck inside, if I don’t want to be.