random and giddy.

Whitworth is a generally friendly place.  Our sidewalk is named the "hello walk" for goodness sake (we also have the "hell no!" walk that's across the lawn, for those days when you just don't feel the cutest.).  When it's warm people swarm the loop and longboard down the hello walk, waving their arms and jumping around like crazy just to say hey to an acquaintance.  Oh, how friendly the warmth is.

Whitworth is also a generally snowy place.  Those same friendly people in the summer that skip down the hello walk and wave their arms like crazy now leave their hands in pockets and wiggle an elbow in acknowledgement.  It's not rude; it's survival.  But oh, how friendly survival is. 

Whitworth is also a generally well-paved place.  There are sidewalks to get anywhere--everywhere.  and it's great.  I don't even mind generally snowy Whitworth anymore, because I know that with the early morning snow comes a mid-morning snow plow, coming to clear the sidewalks and parking lots.  And oh, how friendly clearing the sidewalk is.

Yesterday I saw all three of these things come together in one glorious moment. I began the walk back to my apartment after working out at the gym.  It was one of those workouts where you leave taking slow, wide steps with your shoulders back and a smirk on your face.  For I had squatted 95 pounds.  Yes, folks, I squatted the entire bar, plus 25 pounds.  But that's besides the point.  So I left the gym feeling confident, bold and fierce.  And because I felt that way, I did not want to walk on a paved, plowed path.  I was not interested in the work other people had done.  It was one of those I-want-to-pave-my-own-stinking-way moments.  So, I started through the loop, covered in a foot of snow.  No bother, I was paving my way. 

I was walking parallel to the hello walk, watching the subtle elbow-waving interactions, content with where I am, What I'm seeing and how I'm walking.  Then, in the distance I see a single person veer from the hello walk into the snow.  RIGHT IN MY PATH.  I was very territorial.  But the person got closer, and the huge grin on her face was contagious.  We smiled smug, mischievous smiles at each other, both celebrating the fact that we walked through the foot-deep snow, and feeling silly.  We got closer and she stopped and said, "hi.  pretty outside, huh?"  I responded, "for sure.  it's awesome!"  We both shrugged and walked on.  It wasn't the craziest interaction I've ever had, but I couldn't help but giggle at how silly it was that we walked through a foot of snow, just so we didn't have to walk on the path and contributed more than an elbow wiggle.  I turned to my right and saw a path of compact snow, about a foot and a half wide; others walked through the snow too!  I wonder how many other random and awesome interactions had happened in the middle of the loop that day.

The rest of the walk to the sidewalk was easier and shorter and I was thankful that other people had paved a path for me to follow.