November 24. Thursday Night.

Hi Journey.

Ever get the feeling maybe life is really a wondrous maze? I do. Especially on holidays, when I'm half a continent away from my family. Good solitude, though. And I didn't go into the shop at all. Watched the Macy's parade this morning, thawed a couple frozen turkey drumsticks for lunch. Christmas I'll celebrate with the family. Besides, Dakota's coming Saturday.

I stayed until past 11 last night, though.

Went for a long run today, Journey. 8 miles; double my usual. Let me tell you it felt good but I'm sure my legs will pay for it tomorrow.

I ran down Sheridan , then cut over to South, and ran by the park. I was so close to our old home that I decided to go ahead and extend the run past it. It's been at least seven months since I've been by 510 Lilith Drive .

I forgot how many oaks our street had. Our house crowns the apex of a small hill, on a T-intersection. About a block and a half north of our home the road bottoms out and that last little bit is all up hill, but it's gradual so you don't really notice.

But what you do notice at once when you pull into our street is that the trees on both sides form an absolute canopy of interlocking branches that shelter the entire street. Even now at autumn's finale there are plenty of leaves to keep the street half-shaded

And then you see the walkers. Our neighborhood is full of walkers; couples, mostly. But they are couples of all ages, Journey. The really young couples walk their dogs, the couples in their thirties walk their kids, and the seniors are back to walking their dogs. Life cycles.

My parents had walked before we moved to this neighborhood, although I have to take their word for it because I was just two and don't remember the little starter house on Adams street at all. But Mom always said they enjoyed an evening stroll over there. On our street, I remember them walking every night once Dad got home and they ate a late supper and he'd played with us three girls.

And we were always invited. Well ok, usually. There were times, usually when a sale hadn't gone well, that Dad just needed to walk with her, sans daughters atop his shoulders or in his arms. We would typically pout a bit, but after that we'd let them go. They were always happier when they came back.

Page 2.