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.