As I thought about this week's 12,000 steps and all that is happening in the Midwest right now, the song, "Walking in Memphis," kept coming to mind. The song is about the writer's stroll through Memphis as he greets the ghosts of the past who paved the way before him. As I walked this week, I thought of my own ghosts of the past as I walked through Nebraska. Only my thoughts were there in a different way.
I thought about all the hours I spent nearly every day walking in Nebraska. When I lived in central Nebraska, I lived along a trail that was built above a canal. I can still see the still water laying maybe a few inches deep in the bottom of the canal. I can see the blue firefly riding along on my shoelaces, and feel the breeze of the trees by the lake where I first used a paddle boat. I can hear my friends from the hospital where I worked laughing as we met early on Saturday mornings at my place to go running/walking along the trail and then have coffee. I can see myself smiling as I saw the man I was dating at the time running toward me on the same trail. I can feel the ice-cold water bottle that I kept in the freezer dripping in my hand, and I can see the trees bowing to the weather on windy days.
I flash forward several years, and I can see the trail behind my building when I lived in eastern Nebraska. I remember the small loop at the top of the trail where I walked and started my daily routine. I can hear the children playing pee-wee soccer and parents looking a mixture of stressed and happy. I can see the small stream and feel the shade of the trees that grew next to it. I can see strangers smiling at me and talking to me. I can hear the coed softball team yelling "heads up" when a foul ball came my way. I can see my friends who lived further down the trail, smiling, waving and saying "hello" as they walked past me. I can see the perfectly manicured lawns of the surrounding buildings, and see the buses as they drove by from the nearby schools.
This week, though, when I looked at pictures of Nebraska flooding, I saw something different. I saw the park where I walked in eastern Nebraska flooded. The trail was broken, the grass was muddy, the trees were soggy. I wondered how I would have survived if I was still living there, and what did the area look like now. I thought about where I lived in central Nebraska, which seemed to narrowly escape the worst of the flooding. Still, I wondered if the canal had gone over its banks and if the small lake was still that small. I thought of the peaceful serenity I felt those days and wondered what those kids who played soccer there were doing that week as soccer season is just starting. I wondered how stressed their parents were and where people were walking, or even enjoying themselves to feel safe and happy and relaxed.
A lot of times when we think of flooding or other natural disasters, we forget that flooding affects everything in people's lives. It isn't only about flooded homes, flooded roadways, flooded schools, and businesses. When someone says they lost everything in the flood, it means they lost all that was part of their lives. That includes the simple things that brought them joy, happiness, a sense of routine, relaxation, and made them feel like they were walking forward in life.
As you walk through your days this week, think of every step you take and how it might be different for someone who was a recent flood victim, and how, if it wasn't for the flood, they might be doing the same thing.
I thought about all the hours I spent nearly every day walking in Nebraska. When I lived in central Nebraska, I lived along a trail that was built above a canal. I can still see the still water laying maybe a few inches deep in the bottom of the canal. I can see the blue firefly riding along on my shoelaces, and feel the breeze of the trees by the lake where I first used a paddle boat. I can hear my friends from the hospital where I worked laughing as we met early on Saturday mornings at my place to go running/walking along the trail and then have coffee. I can see myself smiling as I saw the man I was dating at the time running toward me on the same trail. I can feel the ice-cold water bottle that I kept in the freezer dripping in my hand, and I can see the trees bowing to the weather on windy days.
I flash forward several years, and I can see the trail behind my building when I lived in eastern Nebraska. I remember the small loop at the top of the trail where I walked and started my daily routine. I can hear the children playing pee-wee soccer and parents looking a mixture of stressed and happy. I can see the small stream and feel the shade of the trees that grew next to it. I can see strangers smiling at me and talking to me. I can hear the coed softball team yelling "heads up" when a foul ball came my way. I can see my friends who lived further down the trail, smiling, waving and saying "hello" as they walked past me. I can see the perfectly manicured lawns of the surrounding buildings, and see the buses as they drove by from the nearby schools.
This week, though, when I looked at pictures of Nebraska flooding, I saw something different. I saw the park where I walked in eastern Nebraska flooded. The trail was broken, the grass was muddy, the trees were soggy. I wondered how I would have survived if I was still living there, and what did the area look like now. I thought about where I lived in central Nebraska, which seemed to narrowly escape the worst of the flooding. Still, I wondered if the canal had gone over its banks and if the small lake was still that small. I thought of the peaceful serenity I felt those days and wondered what those kids who played soccer there were doing that week as soccer season is just starting. I wondered how stressed their parents were and where people were walking, or even enjoying themselves to feel safe and happy and relaxed.
A lot of times when we think of flooding or other natural disasters, we forget that flooding affects everything in people's lives. It isn't only about flooded homes, flooded roadways, flooded schools, and businesses. When someone says they lost everything in the flood, it means they lost all that was part of their lives. That includes the simple things that brought them joy, happiness, a sense of routine, relaxation, and made them feel like they were walking forward in life.
As you walk through your days this week, think of every step you take and how it might be different for someone who was a recent flood victim, and how, if it wasn't for the flood, they might be doing the same thing.
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