Last night I decided to take advantage of this extra hour of sunlight and went for my first Spring walk along the duck path.

J told me to be careful only about 50 times before I was finally out the door. He also mentioned something about getting me a can of mace. I swear that boy worries far too much.

He must've told Santa about my long evening walks, because I found a little pocket book called Kung Fu for Girls in my stocking this year. It was a very sweet and thoughtful gesture... but I just hope I never have to use it. The book actually says that I should carry it with me at all times, but I think that is simply silly gimmick... "Excuse me Mr. Rapist, can you please give me a moment to warm up and do some stretches, before I refer to my book on how I should kick your a$$." *flipping through pages* "Do you plan to attack from the front or from behind?"

Anyhow, I didn't bring along my Kung Fu for Girls book, and I didn't have any mace. I would just have to keep my eyes open and my music on low. My iPod was out of juice, so I kicked it old school with my scuffed up discman. Dodging random puddles and corroded cement, I headed on my way down my favourite path.

Beneath the naked yellow willow, sitting on a bench, a young Rocky Balboa leaned in close to his Adrienne with a tender look of concern... or maybe regret? Both his hands rested on her knee, as he leaned in close to explain. He tried to make eye contact, but her teary eyes stared straight into her lap. With her legs crossed tightly, she sat stiff and frozen, only moving one hand to keep wiping the tears from her red rimmed eyes. He kept talking, but I don't know what he was saying... my ears only heard the lyrics of a groovy Canon side one, which came highly recommended from a good source.

I looked away as I passed the young couple, and immediately made the decision that I should double the length of tonight's walk --I didn't want to pass this sad couple for an encore, even though I was curious if they'd reach a resolution. The path was quiet tonight. No elderly smiling faces. No scruffy pups wagging hello. Only ducks walking, swimming, and standing in pairs. If there was ever a good night to sit on a bench and cry, tonight would be the night.

I walked on, stopping at my usual place on the little wooden bridge. This is the best time of year to stand there as the water rushes twice as fast. I watched it hypnotically pour over the rocks and spill into the pond with frothy excitement. Spring is here. The ice has melted. Soon the turtles will reclaim their sunny patches on the banks, and soft baby ducks will peep with joy, which always makes me giddy.

I kept walking, releasing my thoughts and allowing them the freedom to trail off on their own. No day dream fantasies consumed my mind, like they usually do. Instead I was in the here and now, taking it all in. The bare knotty orchards, the rolling creek in the ditch, the grey wispy clouds, the snow covered mountains, and the ducks crossing the street.

Please someone tell me why they only pick up their speed to a quick waddle whenever traffic comes - don't they realize that they have wings? I always cringe with every car that comes tearing around the bend. I think I'd be sick to my stomach if I ever watched one of my little feathered friends get shmucked.

I walked all the way to the end of the path and beyond -- only stopping when I felt it would be alright to turn around. Once at the stop sign, I did my usual act of pretending to tie my shoe, because I'm always self-conscious about making an abrupt 180 in front of traffic, (I don't know why... I just am.) Then once the immediate traffic had passed, I casually stood up, turned around and headed for home. Dusk was settling in, so I put a little steam in my stride so J wouldn't panic about my solo walk beneath the dark evening sky.

The walk home was even quieter than the first half. I didn't encounter a single soul, except for a runner who I had passed earlier, so we exchanged smiles again.

Making my way around the corner and down the last length of the path, I was glad to see that Rocky and Adrienne were no longer seated on the bench. I hope that they headed home with less tears in their eyes, leaving their sad secrets behind with the naked yellow willow and the ducks.