What we carry with us
There is a photo of my grandmother on my desk.
She sits there quietly, watching this new chapter of my life unfold. Sometimes I catch myself looking at her during my workday and thinking about how much she would have loved the ERT… the winding ribbon of path, the steady invitation to move forward.
She was a walker. Not for fitness, not for steps, but for living. She walked through my teeny tiny hometown in Kansas without sidewalks or trails or mile markers every single day. She walked because the world was meant to be noticed. Because birds were meant to be watched. Because gardens were meant to be admired. Because motion itself is a form of gratitude.
She believed in things without needing recognition for it. She gave to causes she cared about. She moved through the world with a quiet kind of purpose that didn’t ask permission.
She was RADIANT.
Ten years have gone by since she passed, and while my grief has softened around the edges, it has never fully disappeared. It lives alongside me now, more of a compass than a wound. A reminder of what matters and who I come from.
She never walked the ERT, but she’s here anyway. And I know she would have absolutely LOVED it and made it a part of her daily, joyful walks.
We carry the people who shaped us. The ones who taught us how to pay attention. The ones who showed us, without ever saying it out loud, how to build a life rooted in purpose.
And sometimes, if you’re quiet enough, you can almost feel them walking along beside you.
