We Talk Differently Over Picnics

I’m an avid (albeit slow) runner. So when I saw the forecast was mild and sunny, I couldn’t resist getting myself out and moving. I’ll admit I took a rather slower pace than I usually do, soaking up every last bit of sunshine and warmth before the cooler air of fall really sets in. My feet crunched on newly fallen leaves, trees circled above me, of course being a reminder to myself that I was almost at my destination. You see, I have my favorite route which goes up to my favorite park, which brings me joy as it is. This particular park has small wooden benches, which up until yesterday I hadn’t seen anyone put into use. To my surprise, there was an elderly couple enjoying the benches, sharing apple slices, canes at their hip, engaged in laughter. There also happens to be a large field for soccer games, lacrosse, etc. and once again this large field was being put to good use. A fluorescent pink blanket was strewn out on the grass, food set out along with a tiny basket, a group of  friends happily sharing the feast on a blanket. After completing the lap around the park and nearly returning home, I heard a familiar, happy bark, and noticed the familiar face behind the pup. I stopped and talked with them, trekked into my driveway, and plopped myself at my little wooden table, my cat happily awaiting my return home. In a world where we seemingly don’t talk anymore, I propose that we in fact talk differently in the face, and joy, of picnics.