the images that make up my life

A few weeks ago, I rode my bike to the Palace of Fine Arts for the very first time.
There were only about 4 blocks left to go when it happened.
I'm peddling down the street with growing excitement in the air and wind in my hair when it begins to get difficult.
Each push of my feet feels tougher and tougher.
I was on level land so it couldn't possibly be the road.
Then a horrible thought popped into my head - "I am tired" - but I didn't feel tired until just that moment.
For whatever reason, I looked down at the road, then at my tires, and discovered the back tire was as flat as an ironing board.
I was so upset.
But not a real way - I mean, come on, it made me think all my gym time had gone to waste.
It has not.

I walked my bike the rest of the way and enjoyed a lovely afternoon reading under sunshine, watching ducks waddle, and smiling at dogs as they zoomed past me.
I still love my sad little bike because it was a gift from my friend Nikki who went back home to Germany - miss her.



I've decided that I love my toes.

Not like I hated them, but there were times were smaller ones were mildly desired.

On Friday (?) I was tripping out and stared at my feet for what seemed like an eternity and was just in complete awe of these things.

I'd bend and straighten my toes watching each one purposefully come back to its original position.

I'd wiggle them slowly - like a dreamy hello.

I thought about how my feet have held me up for almost 29 years and the strength they've needed to carry me through the 3 cities I've lived in and the countless others I've visited.

My feet are silent heroes.

I'm going to make them a medal in the form of a toe-ring.

When my afternoon was over, I walked my bike down Lombard and up that damn hill back home.
It was a good walk.

Life is beautiful.