In honor of my bike, George, you are missed dearly.
The sun and the moon dance together in the sky at dawn. The wind chills her face. She doesn’t mind because it balances out with the rush of heat shooting up from her feet, reaching her calves, and thighs. Up down, up down, they pedal faster and faster. Her left hip pops with each pedal forward. The constant movement burns within. Her lower half is on fire and it feels good. Finally awakening, she lifts her butt off the seat sticking it in the air. Leaning in and low towards her core, resembling a slanted right angle. Steadying herself to still every muscle except her feet. Pedaling. Her brain helps them keep rhythm, “leftrightleftrightleftright”, until the motions molds into muscle memory. Her heart races to keep up with her speed. Everything inside her pounds, then vibrates from the friction of her hands gripping the handle bars. She feels life itself turning over in her soul. A symphony for her ears only. Tilting her head down she stares mesmerized by the pavement. Eyes closed, she tries to internalize the 'now' before it slips into the 'has been'. She can’t. Eyes open, one long streak of concrete passes endlessly under her. The frame of her bike sways side to side. Eyes closed, she tries again. Right foot goes back, weight shifting down, everything slows. Eyes open. Stopping, one foot finds the ground and upholds the rest of her body. As her head rises, the moment does too. Cars zip by; the busyness of life catches up to some faster than others.