My feet pound the path.
I weave my latest in a long line of must-have baby-mobiles through the curved trail, rows of pine bend at the waist, bidding us past.
My husband, he strides. Love and purpose in every step. He stops again, a shoelace undone or a coveted sticker has floated off. The dutiful task of herding 3 foot wanderers, all his for the moment.
I maintain our pace, aware of the purpose I carry, comfortable as the leader, but only here, only in purpose.
I am all powerful today.
Feet tap out a heartbeat behind me.
Their eyes fall on my back, the message carved and sharp.
Once in a while, I drift behind and they flow ahead. I see theirs too.
Etched with a name we chose, a span of dates. They nod at me, a wink of strength and hope.
Gratitude pours sweet tears.
We near the end, put tiny feet to the ground.
They tap out the last of the journey, it is theirs.
It is hers.
It is ours.
Dedicated to the AMAZING Watson Walkers and the many, many people I have met in real life and in this wonderful blogging world. You helped us raise thousands of dollars for the March of Dimes this year.
Thank you for giving me strength and love and power.
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