Thursday was my birthday, my first one without an expected text from my dad telling me how proud he was of me and suggesting that maybe my 41st birthday ought better be thought as the start of my 42nd year. Coming into the day fresh off his memorial service in Boise didn’t make that any easier: I am acutely aware that he is gone and not coming back, and that’s still really, really sad. But then I woke up Thursday morning feeling celebratory–I’m alive, it’s great to be alive, I’m living an incredibly lucky life, and I wouldn’t change mine for anybody else’s, no way, no how. That’s a pretty great feeling, one worth celebrating by going out to breakfast with a friend, picking up a fresh flower gift from the local florist, writing a little about my dad, and then taking a bike ride.
I’ve only been on my bicycle a few times since my big trip through the Adirondacks. That’s partly because I was exhausted and my non-biking sister was in town, and then because I was out of town at a family wedding, getting chauffeured around like the girlfriend of the sister of the bride. And now I’m back in Baltimore, settling in for a long late summer and fall of no travel, and that means I’m back on my bike, because that’s how I get around this place. Continue reading
Wednesday’s ride found me pedaling up Old York Road for a rather roundabout trip to Morgan State. I followed the googleymap directions and was glad I did, because I got to ride through neighborhoods I’m rarely in, having the distinct tendency to go down the hill rather than up the hill, at least to start. It was early, so I dodged the school buses and got to say my how ya doin’s to the many folks walking dogs, walking to work, and walking to school. People were out doing yard work before the midday heat started, and the whole place just felt like a friendly neighborhood where I’d love to have a front porch for tea-sipping and waving. Continue reading