Back in the Saddle
Alone in a dark corner of the shed, it sat untouched for years, until one day it caught my eye. I don’t know why that day was different, but I suddenly had an urge to ride off into the sunset.
“You never forget how to ride a bike,” they said.
I fell on my face the first time I tried.
Memories of my ten-year-old self riding, the wind in my face, pushed me to keep trying.
“You see, it’s like you never stopped,” they said. And they were right.
A little wobbly at first,
Steady and confident now as I head out at sunrise.
Down the highway with the forest on one side, the sea on the other.
Early morning commuters fly by on their way to the city, while I head for the seashore.
A family of deer cross before me, so close I can reach out and touch them.
Above me, two eagles soar unblocked by the interior of a car.
Small talk with the papergirl, mailman, and several dog walkers,
Only possible via the slow pace of two wheels instead of four.
I leave the pavement and morning commuters behind me.
A wooded trail along the water with the cool morning breeze on my face and neck
Makes for a better ride than the sound of engines and the smell of exhaust.
At the end of this trail, a lighthouse towers over the harbor,
Her protective light illuminating the places the rising sun hasn’t reached yet.
Here, I will sit and listen to the waves until the sun is high in the sky, and the real world calls me back.
The real world, where I become one of those commuters on four wheels.
Dreaming of the next time my two wheels will take me away from the rat race for a little while.