Kind to Ourselves

Orion strides into the valley, retiring early for the evening. In the north, the big dipper stands on its handle. The stars are taking their postions for the shorter, rustling nights soon to be filled with a thousand notes. On such warm evenings as this, it is hard not to anticipate.

We paid heed to business today, worked during working hours, sitting mostly in front of the computer with the phone at hand, accomplishing, but now with the window open and the space heater off.

Convinced that our energies have forestalled chaos yet again, we top off the tank, zip up our jacket, and we have ignition.

We ease over the ruts to the two-lane macadam and ride that sweet, gentle rumble over the sunstruck hilltops and through the bluer dales, leaning into the turns as our shadow swings around us. The joys of slow riding come with experience.

Our route is a variation on our favorite country roads, often passing between farmhouse and barn, taking a few more dirt lanes than usual, visiting a covered bridge or two, the ones we can ride over just to hear the sound we make inside, then shutting down to listen to the creek.

Others have been here lately, too. Some have left their marks. It doesn't bother us today. Today the bridge is sound, the water running under it clean, for now. For now, we are being kind to ourselves. We do not feel guilty about it, for now. Today for now is enough.

copyright 2010 J. O'Brien, all rights reserved