Saturday, September 18, 2010

imaginary biking.

"I thought maybe you'd given up biking
one says when I show up on two wheels.

"Have you made friends with your bike again?"
says another, brokering the idea of autumn rides.

I haven't given up and we are friends. 

At least, I would still like to be friends. 

Dear Oma and Lady Blue,
 I would like to still be friends with you

But here's the thing -
setting aside the thing about how suddenly (with the caretaking thing and
the horticultural reconstructive surgery thing and
the I-just-can't-get-my-act-together thing)
suddenly I can't seem to afford
that extra 20 minutes it takes to ride into town -
suddenly I can't seem to consolidate my trips into town 
to once at the start of a day and back at the end of the day-
how instead it's zip-zip-zip zigzagging
from hill to river three four times a day. 
And carting loads that would no way fit in my handlebar basket. 

Setting aside all that,
and setting aside also the hostile forces
among the powers-that-be who have laid down a new rule
that kids can't ride the school bus from the transfer site to school
but only from home to school (a 45-minute bus ride, followed by a half-hour wait at the transfer site, followed by that 5 minute bus ride)

Setting aside all that
as stuff that could be worked around,
worked through,
wriggled under,
here is the real Thing: 
 I had a daughter-driver
to tote siblings from practice
with their backpacks of books and duffels of sweaty clothes,
in the dark, in the pouring rain, which rain I don't mind.
But I do mind whining and all that gusty griping.

Before,  I had the option
of leaving my reluctant ones at home and biking alone,
letting them come along by car
if they couldn't be persuaded to join me in the cycling life. 

Now it's all persuasion and capitulation.  And mostly the latter.  And mostly on my part. 

Dear Wheels of Self-Propelled Progress,
I'm beginning again to yearn for you.

And that may be enough to get me out there.


Mrs. Organic said...

Love this! And Oma is an absolute beauty.

suzanne said...

Child going away just keeps hurting in places you never see it coming.

ArtSparker said...

We all struggle to emerge from time to time, heh.

Lisa B. said...

I find it dishearteningly easy to fall off from this kind of pleasure, and then it becomes a duty, or naming it "exercise." Or I just substitute curling up in a ball on my bed. Brooding. It's no good. But it's good to hear you're thinking like this--about getting back on the two-wheeled horse.

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