Do you hear it?

The street I live on dead-ends into a road that is closed -- barriers on each end of the 1-mile stretch of pavement that at one time was supposed to be a continuation of a fairly major road in the North Fulton area.  Only residents that live directly off this stretch of road have good access to it.  Along this road is a huge empty lot that some investor apparently envisioned would make a great mixed-use development.  But it never happened.  I guess they ran out of money, not unlike a large percentage of Americans with interests in the real estate market.

I am not a fitness guru, but I do run occasionally - not on a regular basis...I probably only average once a week.  But, let me tell you, this road is a runner's dream.  So I've come to look forward to my quiet little runs as one of the highlights of my week.

No major hills, no cars whizzing by.  Very quiet.  Great scenery.  The occasional bunny hippity-hops right into your path (I kid you not).  It is a little piece of heaven on earth for a city-dweller that is still a country kind of girl.

I heard something when I was running today.  Something kind of amazing.  I could just tell you outright, but that's no fun.  I'd rather take you running with me.  Which is KIND OF a big deal since this is my very, very favorite time to be alone.  But today I'll make an exception. To play along, I'll ask you to try and eliminate as many distractions as possible before we go on our run together.  Turn off the TV.  Have your significant other watch the kids for a sec.  Pull over on the side of the road (OK, seriously, you better not be reading this while you're driving).

Ready?

Let's go.

It's dusk.  The sun has already set and the crickets and frogs are already singing a chorus in greeting to the night.  But there is still plenty of good light for a short run.  I stretch my arms overhead as I turn left at the bottom of my driveway.  My neighbor is in her yard and I wave in greeting.  She waves back with a smile.  She is a single mom too, and invited me out to dinner a few weeks ago despite the fact that she is Latina and still struggles with the language barrier.  "We need to stick together, because this is hard," I remember her saying in fragmented English.

I maintain a brisk walk, stretching my muscles that feel a bit achy after working in the garden today.  When I reach the stop sign at the end of road, I break into a jog as I turn left onto the closed road...and my quiet place of solitude welcomes me.   I'm in a slow jog now, nothing strenuous.  Just working out the kinks now.  I look across the enormous empty field to my right, a great green and brown sea of delicious nothingness.   Hills that at one time were likely piles of excavated earth are now overgrown with brush and weeds, and they pleasantly break up the landscape, begging passersby to climb.  So after a short distance, I pick one, and I do.  I take it at a run and feel my quadriceps burn as I quickly reach the top.  A bit breathless, I turn to see the view.  The sky over the small neighborhood around the corner looks bigger from here.  Dark periwinkle clouds tower into the sky against a pale blue-grey sky back lit from the sun that has already said good-night.  In the distance, I can see that rain is falling, maybe five miles south of here.  It looks like a veil drifting down from heaven.

Do you hear it yet?

I trot down the hill and continue my run, rounding a bend with a lone high rise building in view a short distance away above the trees.  The windows look like golden mirrors to the world, reflecting the end of another day.

I reach the end of the road now, where the barriers are, and turn around to make the return trip.  I am on a slight incline now, and my muscles in my legs burn blissfully, reminding me of how fortunate I am that I get to have legs.  That work.  The thought makes me smile.  My heart beats more quickly and I feel my pulse in my fingertips.  A healthy heart, too.  I have a healthy heart.

A young couple sharing their evening walk together approaches, and I lift two fingers to acknowledge their passing.  They barely acknowledge me because they are looking at each other.  They are still in love.  It is beautiful to see.

It is getting dark now.  The chorus of nighttime creatures grows louder and it is the perfect background music to the rhythm of my feet falling on pavement.

Do you hear it yet?

There is tall grass to my right -- it is never mowed here.  Each long blade of grass is graced with a fluffy wisp on top, and they all nod their little heads at me as a slight breeze starts....as if to say, "Good job, good job, good job..."

It is almost dark now.  I find myself wishing there were at least a couple of stars out.  I love the first stars of the evening.  As I make the turn onto my street, I slow to a walk.  With the change in direction, I find that the breeze is more significant now, cooling me from the heat of the run.  A wisp of hair comes loose from my ponytail and the wind uses it like a soft hand to stroke my face. 

I walk up my driveway, then stand for a moment on my little back deck, looking into the back yard.  Then I see them. Lightning bugs.   Twinkling here, there and everywhere.

Like stars.

Do you hear it yet?

No, not with your ears.  With your heart.

I love you.  I love you.  I love you.

"My love, I've never left your side
I have seen you through the darkest night
And I'm the One who's loved you all your life...
...you're not alone, for I am here."
lyric, "You're Not Alone" as sung by Meredith Andrews