A  stroll in Central Park.

There is plenty to complain about. I could make a list, but by the time I finish, there will be three new things to add.

So today, I am thinking about something good, being able to walk in Central Park with my dog.

The simple pleasure of picking up the leash and heading outside brings me peace. Having somewhere beautiful to go and a companion who considers every visit an occasion, even if we were there yesterday, is a gift.

My dog has an entirely different relationship with the park than I do. I admire the trees. My dog investigates what apparently happened beneath them sometime in the last twelve hours. I’m hoping to stroll and clear my head. My dog is rigid about plunking down and staring at the turtles.

Somehow, we both get what we need.

There’s something wonderful about being in the middle of New York and finding room to breathe. The city keeps moving around you, but for a little while, your only obligation is to walk and stop whenever a particularly compelling patch of grass requires further investigation.

The headlines will still be there when we get home.

For now, we can take the longer way back. My dog has a few more things to sniff, another turtle gathering point to examine and I am obliging her obsessions.