The same, just different

I took a walk today and was struck with how much that simple activity has  changed since I was a kid.

Then, I threw on a pair of sneakers, flew out the door and took off.  The dog (a stray who claimed us) usually followed me as we ran across the fields, forded streams, and cut through the woods.  Often, shepherd at my heels, I walked along the country roads where I scared up pheasants, deer and grasshoppers. Cattle grazed, creeks babbled, and the smell of hay and scotch broom filled my nostrils.  I noticed hawks soaring overhead and far off, trains clattered on distant tracks.  I met no one.

Fast forward a few decades. (Ok, maybe more than a few)

Now, I throw on my rain jacket and hat, make sure I have my keys (a ring a janitor in a 50 story building would envy), a cell phone, my fitbit, some money (for coffee and a newspaper) and an iPod.  Then gear up the dog with her harness, leash and clean-up bags.  I walk on city streets between tall buildings and scare up squirrels in the park and rabbits in the hedgerows.  Obeying street signs and avoiding traffic, I notice the jets flying overhead.  Trains sound at nearby crossings.  I meet dozens of people, none of whom I know.

How different.  How the same.

Kinda weird.  The good news?  I still get to walk in the country when I want to and in the city when I can.  Not so bad, eh?