Nearing the end of my year on bed rest, a member of my support system started PT-approved “Walk Wednesdays” for me. He would come by in the late morning, help me to his car, and bring me to some spot in nature every other week. It was a good way for me to get some fresh air, and a good way for him to gage how long I could walk without assistance until my TBI symptoms worsened. On one of our first Walk Wednesdays, he took me to Turner’s Pond. It was steps from his grandmother’s backyard, and he had grown up adventuring around it, thinking it was massive. It was massive to me on that first visit. I didn’t get very far, but I enjoyed it. It’s one of few Walk Wednesdays I remember, but he still remembers all of them. We made our way back there to celebrate my progress in sharing my story. It was a surprise for me. This time, I walked the not-so-massive loop without assistance. I want to share this place that means so much to me, and him, with you.
Unless you’re a Milton local, you’ve probably never heard of the little Massachusetts gem named Turner’s Pond. At under a mile long, the loop here doesn’t offer distance, or forest escapism. It’s not there for fishing, or for ice skating, or for boating. It’s just there. It’s just a quiet pond. If you’ve heard my thoughts on being, not doing, you know I learned a lot from this place.
Turner’s Pond is calm. This place has treated me to sweet views as spring turned to summer, as summer cascaded to fall, and even in the dead of winter. In the warmth, it’s home to dozens of turtles and frogs, and it’s dotted with lily pads. The dragonflies aren’t shy here. As the chill wanders in, the ducks don’t seem to leave. They’re everywhere, and they’re happy to see you. In the frigid cold, that one massive tree with initial carvings from over the decades is still there to welcome you. The path is mostly flat, the benches are sturdy, the quiet is steadying. Turner’s Pond is always there, shifting with the seasons, but not really. It’s still just a pond, just being.
Locals walk their dogs here and teach their grandkids to feed the ducks here. They picnic here. They relax here. They meditate here. They smile, nod, and ask how you are here. It’s no grand adventure, but it’s just what a lot of us need, right when we need it. Next time you need a break, or even if you don’t yet feel you do, let Turner’s Pond heal you a little.
Extra Love: About five minutes away in Lower Mills, after you’ve taken your downtime, find Yellow Door Taqueria. It’s just small enough to keep your reflective momentum, while having some of the best, most-allergen-free bites. They can make most of their menu gluten-free, and the tacos are the best I’ve had in the Boston area. They’re big on uncommon ingredients. I’d recommend the duck, but that seems in poor taste. Even I can’t manage that one after a pond visit.
Getting Good at Running Away 