Last night, after we put the kids to bed, I went to Memorial Park for a walk/run.

And maybe it’s because I hadn’t exercised in almost a year. Or because I am getting used to a new normal of tired. Or because I was sleepy. Or because I hadn’t eaten dinner. Maybe because I had stopped taking my Lexapro inadvertently when we evacuated. Or that I had fabulous music playing on my iPod. Or because it felt liberating to move my body. Maybe it was the evening breeze. Or the damn mosquitos. Or because I prayed.

Evening Jog - Memorial Park

Or that I was finally alone for the first time since I can remember, sweet solitude, the well from which my energy is restored. Or because I was at peace knowing the babies were in The Beloved’s hands – the ones I trust most next to mine own. Maybe it was seeing how out of shape I am. Or to witness a whole microworld of activity during a time I’m typically tucked away at home. Or because my favorite tree in the park was toppled and destroyed by Hurricane Ike. Maybe it was because it gave me the chance to count my many blessing – and be inundated by them all. Or because time seems to be passing more quickly than I can embrace each moment.

Or maybe it was a little bit of all those things.

But as I ran, I cried.

Evening Jog