Living in the same place for fifteen years, when I go out for a bike ride, there are only so many places to ride. All roads have to lead in or out of our neighborhood. Once out there’s only a half dozen good routes, one of which is a grand right turn onto a road that leads out to farm country.
I ride this road several times a year. It dead ends at a gated farm and on the way out, I ride towards the Santa Barbara coastal range. It looks like a mountain when you’re on a bike. The mountain raising straight up ahead, the narrow road with citrus trees on either side. It’s beautiful.
As I rode, I remembered other times I went down this road. When the boys were very young, riding was the only time I got away. I remember the feeling of freedom, yet the guilt that I was doing something for myself. When the boys were in elementary school, I would ride this path after I dropped them at school. Significantly less guilt then, so I would enjoy my ride, appreciate the day, and prepared myself for what business emails would await me.
I remember another time when our cat died and I went on this road to help me feel better. As I was riding, I heard or imagined I heard cats meowing on the side of the road. I wanted to track down the meowing and see if I could help.
Today on the ride, the sky was blue, the mountain spectacular, the farms healthy green and growing. I have been down this road, know it and love it. I remember my other trips and add ride this to my mental database. What will I remember about my life from this today?
