Daily Walk for Fitness Tracking

My mother ushers me to the left side, a bend in our usual sidewalk. I’m in a bright orange snowsuit, and my boots, heavy on my feet, draaaaaag across the slush-coated sidewalk. Our daily walk, the same path we take everyday, is covered in ice. The winding path behind our home is slippery, treacherous. I take steps carefully.

My mother walks to burn calories; I walk to contain my own wishes. To daydream, her hand enclosed tightly around my own. To feel the sunshine rays beating down on my flushed cheeks. Though my height only contains harsh winds, the skies are full of warmth, I just know it. How can the sky be cold when the sun is oh-so hot?

There is no time to glance at my surroundings this morning. My mother is practically running, tugging me close to her hip, and she huffs and puffs. Routinely bringing her wristwatch close to her eyesight, she grins. Seven-thousand steps completed, and it’s only ten-o-clock. My nose is dripping. I wipe the snot onto the mitten she does not have a hold of—bright green and crocheted by Grandma. Not watching where I’m going, I bump into a tree, small in length but overpowering in width, its branches reaching so far out & so wide. Packing snow sprinkles, take cover! I shriek as icicles rain down upon the hood of my parka.

Myself & Mom. She pulls me again, right this time, and I look up in time to see a bird take off from the power lines that run along the trail. I don’t know what kind it is, only that it is grey, and its feathers feathery. Only five more minutes until we reach home—though that means very little when you can’t tell time.