In which the mundane trumps the terrible

Let's face it; it was a shitty day. It was the 5th anniversary of my mom's death, and then somebody bombed the Boston Marathon. I couldn't imagine I was really going to find my way to joy after all that, but I did in fact, through the simplicity of doing something that usually works for me eventually. I went for a walk. And I kept walking. And I kept walking until I started to find beautiful houses with wraparound porches, and fragrant trees in bloom. I kept walking for over an hour, then an hour and a half, til my legs were just going on their own, and there was joy in the mundane and familiar motion, in the breath coming in and out, in the darkening sky.

Also, I might have picked a couple sprigs from some neighborhood trees and put them in a vase that used to be my mom's, on a table that she and I both grew up with.