Figure eights

At the end of Monday's evening ride I ended up biking through the neighborhood around my house to a street which overlooks the valley. Last Winter Dad and I would occasionally walk over here for a break and to talk. He must have been freezing during those walks, having lived in Florida for so long. Over the years, Robin and I had walked over here many times.

I biked up and down the street overlooking the valley and watched the sun makes it's way toward the horizon. I didn't really want to go home and get off the bike, but the sunset was still twenty minutes away.

I don't know if it was the constant ringing of the chimes at home on Monday, or the feel of Fall coming, or maybe it was an anniversary of some event from last year, but I could feel tears in my eyes. It may sound weird, but it felt OK. I pondered briefly what brought it on, but then I thought I didn't really have to analyze it. I was just OK with it.

I did consider that there used to be a dog on this street named Tyler. He would bark anytime someone came down the dead end street. One time, to his owners surprise, I managed to walk down the street and begin petting him without eliciting any barking. Tyler passed away in the last year also.

I rode up and down the street. I made figure eights. I practiced riding with no hands. I tried keeping my eyes on the sunset while I did circles in the street. I guess I was doing the best kind of learning, where it's all play.