I finally took my walk around the pond -- the soft sounds of ducks, the vigorous splashing of dogs chasing balls in and out of the water. I always find myself moved by the speckly light that falls through trees. After waiting for this particular walk for months, it struck me that the pond -- beautiful though it is -- has at times been precious because the sound of the water felt like company when I was alone, felt almost healing. But on this walk, I did not need healing. I simply smiled at the light and the leaves and the boats and the sky. And that was enough.