Unexpected gifts

My grandparents always took a walk every evening after dinner.

It was their habit, something their doctors had told them was a good idea for exercise, for flexibility and staying mobile. Every evening, when dinner was over, they would go for a walk of maybe 20 minutes around the neighborhoods near their home in Merced, California. And when we were there visiting them, we would go on walks with them.

My grandfather was an Episcopal priest who retired when I was still in grade school, and my grandmother was a violinist. They lived in California and we lived in Massachusetts or Baltimore or Tennessee for most of my childhood, so our time together was limited to summer and Christmas visits.

Some of my favorite memories of visiting my grandparents were those after-dinner walks, when they would show us around the neighborhood. I have vague memories of a playground with a stone wall leading away from the sidewalk, not far from their house with the stucco walls and tiled roof so common in southern California. There was the stand of eucalyptus trees, impossibly tall to my New England eyes, lining the street that went past their neighborhood.

They would point out these things, little details that we never notice when we’re whizzing past in our cars, and we would walk and talk.

The routine could not be broken for something as simple as travel. When they would come to visit us, we would go on walks as well. My sister and I delighted to show them our neighborhood. There was a park only two…