When I lived in LA, I went to Trader Joe’s by myself. I went to the gym by myself. I sometimes went to the movies by myself. I ate mostly by myself.
As I did my daily 5,000-step laps with dad this evening, I realized that he has become my jogging buddy.
When the rain had became drizzles, we strolled the quiet end of the neighborhood. Our conversation varied from what I’d watched to what I’d written. He listened and sometimes gave me his observations.
And before I knew it, he’d announced: that’s the fifth lap now.
Okay. I’d say.
And we slowed down a little as we sauntered back, carefully avoiding the occasional dog poops of the dog owners who have enough money to own labradors but not enough ethics to clean up their dogs’ residues.
The only downside for me is, now I need to find some other chunks of time to listen to podcasts and audiobooks. Because my dad would be the first one to ditch me, also known as the lesser consistent of the two.