A Holy City Stroll
The phone buzzes. My receptionist emails to tell me my two late afternoon clients rescheduled for next week. My two-hour window expands to the rest of the day. Greg is busy with an opening event this evening so I am gifted six free hours all to myself. A bit of uneasiness overcomes me thinking of what to do. I could finish The Liars Club by Karr on my night stand, shop for presents because of all the holiday sales, or cozy up in a warm blanket watching a mind-numbing Hallmark movie. Oddly, none of these distractions appeal to me.
I am still experiencing the Thanksgiving sluggishness after endless days of feasting. I don’t need New Years to commit to a new diet regimen because I am overcome with guilt for my needless over-indulgence. Greg and I were discussing all the latest health fads down the pike. Pop psychologist, Jordan Peterson swears by only eating beef. He says it lessened his inflammation and autoimmune issues we are more carnivore than herbivore. On the other end is Penn Jillette, from the duo Penn and Teller, dropping over 100 pounds by eating only potatoes. He actually carried a baked potato in his pocket to curb his hunger pangs when working. Beef and potatoes are considered culprits in many other healthy lifestyles. The local mid-lifers trying hard to live past their expiration date are rather diehard in their feelings regarding food, so eating with friends has come with standard disclaimers. Declarations of gluten-free, dairy-free, sugar-free are normal banter before the meal prayer. And my meat and potatoes dish, while delicious, feels rather judged, though at this moment I am so past caring.
As I cross the top of the Ravenel Bridge, I decide stressing over food is not going to fill my emotional void. I enter the house, set down my computer bag and head to the bedroom. I put on my comfortable shoes and point my Prius toward Rutledge Avenue and turn onto Murray Boulevard. Fall is coming to a close, the sun is out and I think it would be a lovely time to walk downtown Charleston solo. I find a parking spot on King Street and feed the meter. Walking down to the end of King, I take a left on Broad and turn right on Church street. I follow it until I cross over and sit on a bench in White Point Gardens. I passed some of the most beautiful piazzas and wrought iron gates in the city on my walk. Due to my years as a docent for the Historical Foundation, I know there are several spectacular English-style gardens hidden from street-view, many homes allowing a teasing glimpse of what might lie beyond your line of vision.
As I get back up to walk Water Street, my lungs fill with salt air and my pace picks up. I am glad I spent my free afternoon here. The canopy of trees , the waves sloshing against the sea wall, and behind me is a feast for the eyes with a row of royal merchant homes. I close my eyes and am grateful to live in such a city.
