I walked with my daughter this afternoon. We set out at 4:26. Sunset was 4:30. The shortest day of the year.
I was cold. The light was fading fast. But my daughter was cheerful. She talked about her day at school. We made plans for the break. We laughed at our dog who is always happy to be out and about no matter the weather or time of day.
My daughter pointed out two patches of black ice she noticed on her walk home from the bus yesterday. We watched a woman do tai chi on the elementary school field. We speculated about what it’s like to be a dog.
We greeted some construction workers who had finished building one house and had started on another project up the street. “Merry Christmas!” I said.
“Do you know them?” my daughter asked.
“I’ve walked by them every day for a year,” I said, “so I guess I do.”
We turned back toward home. By then, it was almost completely dark, just a tiny bit of orange glowing from the horizon.
We crossed the playground, and our dog found a big bouncy rubber ball. She nudged it with her nose. She opened her mouth as wide as she could to carry it. We threw the ball again and again, and she romped like a puppy. Her tooth punctured the ball, and we heard the hiss. We kept playing fetch until the ball was completely flat, and it was completely dark.
“I’m glad I came on the walk,” my daughter said.
“Me too,” I replied.
Happy Solstice!