A weekend ritual
And a few memorable movies, one can't-miss conversation and a brief musing on kindness (we need more of it).
These past few weekends, Joe and I have fallen into a routine of getting up early and going out for breakfast, then spending the afternoon hiking a nearby trail. I’m all about lounging around in pajamas with endless cups of coffee and reading the newspaper or a good book on Sunday mornings – and enjoying a homemade big breakfast with everyone, to include my dad who sometimes stops by – but it’s been a nice change of pace to leave the house, just the two of us, and have someone else make the eggs and hashbrowns. It’s been good for my soul to venture beyond our neighborhood trails, as great as they are, and explore pathways that we know well and, in some cases, haven’t been on for years.
“We’re that older couple,” I say to Joe as we sit sipping our third cup of coffee in the restaurant down the hill. I’m lost in a memory from years and years ago, when I waited tables at a popular breakfast place – this very same place actually. This is what can happen when you return to your hometown as an adult.
“Which couple?”
“There was this couple, they came in every single Sunday morning,” I say, also remembering how during those early 1990s days one side of the restaurant was “smoking” and the other “non-smoking.”
“They brought the newspaper with them and after eating their breakfast, they read the paper together. They must have stayed for a couple of hours each time.”
This couple, in their mid- to late 40s, so very old to me at the time, always tipped me well and were friendly enough. They didn’t care to engage in small talk, which was fine by me as I dashed between the kitchen and the floor taking orders and delivering food. They always seemed blissfully content to just read and be, so long as I kept re-filling their coffee.
I was probably 16 or 17 at the time and I’m sure I didn’t fully appreciate the simple sweetness of this, these two people who had a ritual of being out together for breakfast and the Sunday paper. I wonder now if the servers are noticing us, having come in for several weekends in a row and sitting in a booth and talking for far longer than it takes us to eat our skillet meals. There’s that older couple again.
On our first hiking trek post-breakfast, we wandered for a couple of hours at nearby Brown Bridge Quiet Area, where miles of trails hug the meandering Boardman/Ottaway River. Some sections of this trail network take you along a ridge overlooking the river valley, providing breathtaking panoramic views, and across narrow wood-planked walkways in the woods. We like to park in a lot next to the ridge and follow the tree-lined path for a bit before taking the steep stairs down to the water’s edge.
Lesson learned from this hike: don’t wear older running shoes. There they were the morning I was getting ready – a pair of teal and purple Sauconys on the floor of our closet reminding me of road races from what feels like another life sometimes – and I thought, these should be fine for a walk in the woods.
I was mistaken. Not even a couple of hours after returning from our hike, the outer side of my left foot started talking to me. Of course, duh. These who-really-knows-how-old-they-are shoes – shoes I ran miles and miles and miles in and have held onto because of the Michigan Runner Girl silver-plated shoelace tag I placed on the left shoe forever ago – would not, of course, be the best choice for a long, hilly hike. I amuse myself sometimes, thinking about the things I’ve figured out and clearly the things I have not. Or is this disregard for the health and well-being of my feet just indicative of my fuzzy perimenopausal brain these days?
Subsequent weekend hikes – while wearing just-right shoes I actually bought in the last year – have been around the lighthouse at the tip of Old Mission Peninsula, with a picnic at Bower’s Harbor Park afterward, and more recently at a beach that is among my most favorite stretches of Lake Michigan shoreline, partly because it’s lesser known, particularly if you’re willing to hike the winding trail further from the main swimming area that leads to a quiet and deserted sandy point.
We tell each other that we’re going to keep this up, this weekend hiking adventure tradition. I hope we do, even as I know life will happen and we’ll miss a weekend or two or more before getting back on track or deciding to try another activity (we sometimes say we’re going to take a cooking or dancing class together, and one time we attended weekly yoga classes in the winter. Mostly, though, we talk a big game. We’re at least thinking about these things; starting something at least counts for something, too, right?).
This time of year, with the daffodils pushing up through the dirt, the leaves budding and unfurling, and bright blue-sky days gifting us with a hint of warmth, I’m motivated even more to be outdoors as much as possible.
The days are longer and I’m ready for long bike rides. I’m ever hopeful I’ll settle into a strong and consistent trail-running routine. It’s still crisp-cold outside but there are moments when I’m tasting the closeness of breezy summer days.
I want to be that older couple that keeps moving together. Especially after a really great breakfast.
Watching movies from the 80s, 90s and aughts are another thing we seem to be doing lately. Well, often it’s just me, because I’m the night owl.
Over the past few weeks I’ve watched Something’s Gotta Give with Diane Keaton and Jack Nicholson (and Keanu Reeves as the most adorably kind doctor), and going way back to the mid-80s, Falling in Love with Meryl Streep and Robert DeNiro. Another night it was It’s Complicated (I do like Meryl).
I think I watched Something’s Gotta Give when it came out in 2003, maybe, but it certainly landed differently watching it now, as I realized Diane Keaton’s character is pretty much my age now. It was a delightfully easy, silly and comforting movie. Falling in Love, meanwhile, was a trip and such a snapshot of the 80s and New York City at that time (all the advertisements shown at train stations and on the subway? Tobacco and liquor. And the 80s cars and fashion took me back to my childhood. Two words: shoulder pads.). Apparently this movie is in the top 10 or something right now on Netflix, who knows why, but having never watched it and liking these actors, I decided to sink into the couch one night this week and see what it was all about.
I’m also finding myself studying storylines, in movies and in books I love, as I continue working on my novel, and it really is interesting to take note of these things as I develop my own characters and situations for the book.
An older movie Joe and I did watch together, after doing the frustrating “what should we watch?” search on multiple streaming services one evening, was Return to Me, with Minnie Driver and David Duchovny. Can you believe this movie came out in 2000?!
I’d forgotten how funny the actress Bonnie Hunt is in this — she’s the best friend to Minnie Driver’s character and she also wrote and directed this movie. It’s a sweet and sad film, and yes a little predictable. But really so good. Maybe this is what I’m needing right now: familiar films that touch on what can feel like a simpler time; movies that feel like an escape.
What watching this movie also did was remind me how much I’ve always liked Minnie Driver. And then this week I learned
of the terrific recently interviewed Minnie on her podcast. This episode was so good! I fell in love with Minnie even more as she talked about being in her early 50s and having a 13-year-old son, how she’s experiencing aging, navigating the loss of her mom in more recent time (she shares some real nuggets of wisdom her mother passed on to her), the things she struggles with, like being fired from a film not long ago and how she moved through different emotions around that experience, what she’s let go of in midlife, and so much more. I couldn’t stop nodding and smiling and laughing listening to this conversation. I would like Minnie to be one of my friends, basically.I almost shared an essay about kindness today — well, kindness and how sometimes it seems there’s not enough of it in the world today. But I’m still thinking on this topic and doing some research because I’m curious about whether there are actual recent studies on this or if it’s more of just a general sense and based on anecdotal stories I hear or read. Or maybe I am projecting following an experience I recently had that left me all twisted up inside because I felt blindsided and troubled by an acquaintance’s behavior toward someone I love. It didn’t happen directly to me, but still I felt the hurt and confusion as if it did because I care about this person who was directly impacted.
I think for now I’ll just leave this here, which came across my Instagram feed this week and made me feel a little better about the situation. (Thank you, Jen!)
Thank you for being here with me today. I appreciate you reading, whether this is your first time visiting Moving Through (hello, I’m happy you are here!) or you’ve been here for awhile (thank you for continuing to be part of this community!). Let me know if you like what you’re reading here by tapping the ❤️ below. As always, I love to read your comments, so drop any thoughts about anything I’ve written here today in the comments below.
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I’ll end with a photo from my recent long run on the trails — my first 6-miler in a long time. It was slow and magical.
I’ll see you all back here soon. Have a great weekend, fellow travelers!
xo
Heather
I’m so glad you enjoyed it. I loved her too.
Love that you and joe are “that couple”💙and also it was such a nice surprise to get a pic of you and my trail buddy David while you and Joe were hiking brown bridge!!