Noticing

I received a compliment last week from a friend and at the end he said “I noticed”. It caught me off guard and for some reason, those two words stuck. 

“I noticed”. 

I was reflecting on it again, on my walk today. 

I walk the same path daily. I have “my spot”. Rain or shine.

I’ve only been in my current home for about 2.5 months now, but I’ve noticed the little changes, the way the geese call out to each other, the different species of ducks and birds, the gradual death of the leaves, and finally, the increasing space among branches. Alive but bare. But I’ve also noticed the minuscule changes that happens over a long period of time. Like the rust on the mostly broken down canister near “my spot”. Or smells of dampness and leaf rot. Or the million holes dug up by squirrels. Or the fact that the squirrels who visit my spot (probably vice versa) have grown accustomed to my presence. Or that the leaves on that silver maple is slight more cherry red than it was a day ago. 

I realized I couldn’t have noticed these transformations, or had a chance at marvelling had I not walked the same path, or sat in “my spot” for hours.

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