Evening Walks

Summer, winter, fall, and spring evenings are meant for walking. These places of our city wanderings do not stand out on the tourist map. Often, we take a bus to walk the wooded trails of Forest Park, or around the perimeter of Juniper Valley, or through the gardens and by the bay of the Jamaica Wildlife Refuge. We leave the chaotic city behind to stand on a deck at sunset and watch an osprey pair feed its young. In the distance, a ferry docks at Rockaway. Peace washes over us, and we feel humbled and blessed to live here.

Last evening, we walked past the old buildings and alongside the Civil War fortress at Fort Totten. Sometimes we’ve stopped at the top of a hill there to watch the sun set behind the Whitestone Bridge. I know of no prettier sight then when the sky above the bay is awash in oranges, the bridge lights come on, a lighthouse blinks, and the “lower lights are burning.”

Without a doubt, the walk we’ve taken more than any other is to a strip of lawn with cherry trees across from the runways of LaGuardia Airport. During certain weather patterns, it feels like you could reach up and touch the planes coming in for a landing. We take a bus back to Roosevelt and 82nd Street instead of walking the two miles back.

It isn’t Brooklyn Bridge or Central Park where we might take you for a walk, but rather, South Hunter’s Point, a beautiful park along the East River in Queens. We like to climb to the top of the hill to sit on a bench that overlooks the river, bridges, and the Manhattan skyline. (We don’t enjoy hanging out in Manhattan, but we are awed by the memorable view of its skyline.) My nephew Jonathan fell in love with the view from that park. I remember Greg and Trish’s girls tumbling on the grass there with Bee, and eating street food while perched there with Lee and Michelle and their lively kids. It’s the one place we took the women of the writing group and their spouses when they passed through on their way to a writing retreat. But mostly, Laurence and I go there alone.

So many walks stream through my mind. They can wait. Keep walking. Berniece

p.s. I’m not posting this on my status. You can pass it on. The comments keep me writing. Thank you for being interested.