Walking the Old Zoo trail

Yesterday BooBoo and I hiked the old zoo trail and a bit more, about 9 miles altogether. It was a rainy, cold and muddy morning. It was perfect for hiking.

It almost brought tears to my eyes, to walk in some of these places where my mind still sees my little girl running eagerly, playing and laughing when we used to homeschool while living here. She also turned 15 yesterday, which made this hike even more significant for me.

I wanted to hike the trail just as it appears in the "All trails" app, so I intended to follow it closely.

I loved the first part of the hike and up to the old zoo. Even tho I wondered aimlessly for an hour ending up at my car, until I realized where I had gone wrong. Fortunately, I had wondered into the hills which allowed me to get lost away from cars, so I was able to enjoy the sounds of my own thoughts and imagination at work. Yay! Unfortunately, once I found my way I realized that the "trail" mostly followed the road, so I could always hear or spot a car nearby. Bummer. But I followed it anyway. I had walked the same paths many times, but not all at once so it was a nice change.

I walked past the picnic area with run off streams where my dear friend and I took our young children  to look for frogs and splash on rainy days. I explored the old zoo, where we would regularly attend book club meetings with homeschooling friends and witness respectful, thought provoking and  beautiful discussions lead by amazing women and mothers. The magical place where our kids played freely and ran as wildly as the beasts that once lived there should have. This was one of the many places where, with knitting needles and home made snacks in hand, I first saw women form a sisterhood like none I had ever experienced before. A sisterhood where our problems and triumphs were shared and understood without judgement.

I walked along the golf course; the road that backs up with cars filled with people eager to see the light display every holiday season and where my small family walked hand in hand stuffed with turkey and smiles admiring the colorful displays.

I walked past the LA Zoo and botanical gardens, where my daughter used to attend summer camp and had spend endless hours toddling and later on running from one habitat to another in awe of its residents. Where we camped in a "fancy" zoo tent pitched by docents and were fed sugary treats after a night of exploration and lectures about nocturnal animals. This is one of the places where my happy Daisies and Brownies bounced laughing and adding color to tourist's sights while earning prized patches.
Then I walked by the Autry museum, where I would loose myself in quiet wonder, looking at master paintings while she napped in her stroller as a baby.

I walked across the path that used to take me to my old house,  the path that stretches across the LA river and the equestrian center. I remembered the many times I walked that path to meet the trainer with our sweet dog, at the dog park for her canine good citizen lessons and evaluation so she and I could become a certified therapy dog team. I remembered our visits to local old folks homes and the smiles Avery brought to their residents as they stroked her soft, white fur and looked into her loving, honey color eyes. Again, I remembered my refusal to my ex's request to euthanize her after she was diagnosed with cancer in order to move overseas without her. This made him feel abandoned and was one of the reasons for his divorce from me. Avery lived 4 years passed her "3-6 months to live" diagnosis.
I walked along I-5, with the nonstop roar of cars spitting their fumes, which used to make me feel guilty (like he did) for taking the time to walk for hours towards the park on early Saturdays during her training.  He slept in and made delicious pancake breakfasts with my daughter for me to come home to afterwards. I walked along the littered highway and remembered how beautiful my Florida is.

Finally, I reached travel town, where my daughter and I had spend many visits playing in the train cars, looking at the huge machines, learning about their engines and trying to imagine them being alive. This is where I had parked my car and had started my walk hours before.

Once again, I had to come back to the beginning in order to call it an end.