Walk the Walk

May 22 2025

Filly saw he person heading towards her two blocks before she was close enough to see details. She had started her trek at Six am. and it had been dark. Too dark to pay attention to the flowers which were still closed up tight and too dark to notice cars or neighborhood landscaping.

About her height. About her hair color, blond, also pulled back. About her weight, not too big, not too small. And about her athleticism, walking faster but not running. At least not yet.

Like Filly she was not wearing any make up and had a pale freckle face and nondescript shorts and baggy shirt…typical early morning running fare.

It was like she was looking at a mirror of herself. The same shy smile and “hello” and the same onward push to get the workout in.

She had also seen the bearded man, wearing his usual red patriotic shirt. He had been MIA for at least several weeks. Today he was there, at a time that was early…earlier than Filly had been walking.

The man who sat at the table in the morning drinking his coffee and watching the street was there too.

Filly liked remembering things that seemed insignificant. Like she could have a perfect memory, like a computer, like the Jack Reacher Character who she thought was in fact modeled after a computer.

The girl, she had met the day before walking. The one named Debbie who was wearing black spandex and jogging her two miles with a dog and who lived in the house with the flag three houses from the corner where Filly turned. That girl had stopped her and asked her if her name was “diane” or “Jenene” or some other name.

She had said that a friend of hers had described someone who looked like Filly who walked regularly who was going with the friend on a trip. It was someone she had wanted to introduce Debbie to and she had thought Filly was that someone.

It was like the girl she was seeing today, was her body double, as described by Debbie the day before. Like she had been put on alert. The girl passed silently by. Opposite direction.

Filly rarely went left to right, she almost always structured her workout to go right to left, a perfect mirror or reverse. She wondered if AI had someone orchestrated another coincidence. Was she hidden? Was she a secret?

Was the “neighborhood watch” her “stable”? Who was the trainer? The internet never connecting to her phone until she was a block away? The lack of response to things she posted.

Abby Normal. That was what Filly thought. Things that could cause a normal person stress were not going to run Filly off.

Night school could be Knight school. Those doing the watching could be Cash Lean. Driving purple cars or having purple license plates.

There were none of the usual sounds this early in the day. No loud busses today, no red and white helicopters flying over twice, no bells that sounded like the start of day for the Stock market…and no contrails in the sky. Just quiet.
Just the sound of her Audiobook and her feet on the ground.
The night before, there had been the sound of the announcer on the TV baseball game, talking about stretching when she was on the floor stretching, and talking about blinding lights, when she had taking a photo of the radio playing blinded by the light. Coincidences that happened all the time. Coincidences that she accepted now, and looked for direction, that she got when she picked her randomly chosen bible verse.

It was about leaven. Leaven Filly knew, was a foaming agent that softened and caused Bread to rise.
Leaven looked and spelled almost exactly like Heaven. A place where people had to rise up to achieve.

Filly remembered talking to Tater about how God was like the Potter. Mankind was the clay and each person who was clay on “the Potter’s” wheel, who might think that they were going in circles, were actually rising up. The lump of clay was being perfected in the shape that rose up into a glass or bowl. She thought that it was not magic, not witchcraft, not astrology, not mysticism. It was God. Which was why she disputed the premise behind the books about Harry Potter. The power was not in a human being who was Hairy. That had been the mistake. A false God.

Only a real God could orchestrate the things she was seeing now. The body double. The constant protection. The certainty of success.

Heaven was Leaven. Those who did not react to the yeast would not be part of the bread.
The “this is my body” part of the meal.

Filly did trust. She was indeed on board…

20 Again he asked, “What shall I compare the kingdom of God to? 21 It is like yeast that a woman took and mixed into about sixty pounds of flour until it worked all through the dough.”

She had gotten a phone call from her nephew when she was off loading the mulch from the truck later that afternoon, in the hot sun and the wheelbarrow squeaked loudly as she tried to carry on a phone conversation on speaker. He had mentioned that so many of the ultra libs, who had changed their stance on the world, were also starting to go back to church.
Leavening.

Filly thought about her story of High Flight the day before. About how flying on a trip was a joy, not a stress, not a concern for her or family and friends, as the journey was never a problem when the footsteps were following God.

Like going to church…like she did, from the time she was a little girl…with her four sisters….like she still did.