Chase

We went out the front door, instead of squeezing out the side door, which, while energy efficient and directly up the stairs from the best edition to our house -- a closet -- is tight. Maybe that was the inspiration. Or maybe it was the stark blue sky and the moon rise, the reward of a clear, wind snapping January day. When we turned the corner towards the library (which turned out to be closed) we broke into a chase -- instigated by me, definitely something I have not done in nearly a year, maybe even more. In fact, I've felt unable to play, even unwilling, to play. A lot of that has to do with carrying a baby, first in my womb, now in a carrier. But the stars aligned and the pager cooperated that I could skidaddle out of the house late this afternoon. And so I chased those bigger boys, those boys who have looked sad with my reasons for not playing, for not picking up the football (but I can hike it w/ baby in the ergo). Down the street, down another street. Dropped off the books. Back up the street. One boy, then the other, then me. I no longer have to fake that I can't catch Dietrich -- I really had to work hard. We stopped to shop a post-Christmas sale, we grocery shopped. But it was the chase, the simple act of being in the game again, that delighted me. Does this mean I am going to start running again? Hardly. Does it mean I feel something like the sparkling crisp night that fell on us as we ran? Yes.