"Walking at night..."

I like to walk, and never seem to do enough of it since I moved to Virginia. Now that I live in a neighborhood, it'll be great to go on walks and such in the lovely summer evenings when I finally get home. When I was a teenager, I used to go on walks almost every night. By myself, with my sisters, or with one of the younger kids in the stroller. Those walks were something I couldn't live without. They provided a sense of freedom that I couldn't find anywhere else; our home was so controlled, so protected by my mother, that it seemed as though we had to ask permission to breathe. When I would take those walks, I could talk to my sisters about anything, without worrying about being overheard, or judged. I could let my mind wander or not think about anything in particular without being told that I was not putting my time to good use. Mom considered these walks of ours a rather harmless indulgence, and would frequently allow it; little did she know that it was the only chance for sanity that was afforded us at times. On nights when I knew she'd say no, I'd sneak out oh so quietly and walk as quickly as I could, just one time, around the block, for even those few minutes were too precious to relinquish...