Early November 2019

"Lost time is never 

found again."

Benjamin Franklin

 

November arrives so quickly.  As always, I find my mother was right:  time does move more quickly as you age.  But the sun is shining, the sky is blue, and there are bicycles that need to be ridden.  It is not so hard to get out the door when the sun is shining and the sky is blue despite a rather wicked wind.  

I am not so sure that this ride will nurture my physical health so much as it will nurture my spirit for as always, in autumn, my pace slows to a dreamy, snail like crawl.  It seems almost wasteful to hurry and miss any of the fall scenery as the last leaves dance gracefully with the wind swirling their way to the ground to join the others.  I am surprised that so much foliage remains.  I am surprised that there is color after the drought. 

 

I do know I don't want to waste these days, to loose this time, too cold for shorts and short sleeved jersey's, but not yet cold enough to require real bundling.  Cold weather riding requires a certain determination and purpose that I don't need on a day like today.  The wind rudely shoves me around, but I shove right back. I will not let her steal the joy in this day from me.

 

I pass horses and cows lazily grazing, enjoying what is left of green pastures. I pass a small pony, pastured alone, and my heart goes out to him.  As I age, I feel sorrow for animals lacking companions.  I pass fields that have been neatly harvested and others still waiting to be harvested despite a run of rather good weather.  Ironically, I find I miss company yet am glad I am alone because without company I can concentrate on the beauty that surrounds me and not worry about my pace.  Surrender to the inevitable: perhaps it is a beautiful thing?  Sometimes I wish I were smarter and wiser, but I am who I am.

 

I ride past the mobile home where my children spent their early childhood and then past their paternal grandmother's home onward to the cemetery.  I pause to chat a bit with Lloyd's mother prayers spiraling upwards.  A tear courses down my face as I think how I miss them so, those that I have loved and lost.  It seems so many.  Age brings such loss, though I do not forget the blessings.  I do wonder, sometimes, if there comes a time when you just are ready to go home?

Memories are my companions for a bit, and I realize how lucky I am to have so many good memories and to have had so many people and animals that I have loved and shared life with.  

I head home once again enthralled by the magnificence around me and thankful for all that I have.  Chilly, I slip a jacket back on.  Riding alone it is easier to do things like that because I don't feel that I am holding anyone up.  Unlike some of the guys, I never truly mastered dressing and undressing on the bike.  I feel certain there are probably better, more productive things I could have done with the day rather than wandering on a bicycle, but probably none more necessary to my emotional well-being.  This time may not ever be found again, but it was worthwhile to me.