Walking and finding our way home.

Sometimes taking a walk around the block brings you back to center, right where you belong. First you walk away, down streets that lead to town and then on dirt paths that lead you farther away from where you began. Eventually, if you’re lucky, the path leads you back up to streets you recognize, a place called home.

So we laced up our shoes and headed out. While downtown was bustling with diners, children, and musicians, the path that followed the creek was quiet — a world apart. Water is still running in the creek, which is pretty amazing after our hot and dry summer. The only other people we saw were two kids on bicycles, heading in the opposite direction.

I only had my phone, but I shot a few pictures anyway.

Creek PleasantonGraffitti under the railroad tracksRailroad trellisRed logs

We walked and talked. I shared my week, such as it was, of classroom adventures.  I heard all about Japan — the cultural differences, the elegant food, the people. We connected.

Long before we made it back to our front door, we’d come home.

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