Saturday, March 11, 2006

The best days of our lives...

I'd like to preface this post by saying I had intended on putting down these memories tonight from the comforts of my bed, with the windows open and the warm spring breeze blowing around me, perhaps sipping a drink as I unwound.

I'm typing from bed alright. From the AeroBed on the living room floor.

You see, 21st Century Grandparents took The Kid out to dinner tonight...and brought him back to me gooey, puffy and pink.

Conjunctivitis. Whee.

The Kid decided that he didn't want to sleep on his bed tonight as it made his eye "hurt worse," although I suspect it has something to do with wanting to watch the TV at bedtime. So here we are, camped out on the couch and AeroBed. Thank goodness for wireless, or else my laptop would be tied down to my bedroom all by its lonesome. And I would be going stir-crazy, sleeping on the floor, dreading the impending trip to the urgent care clinic in the morning. I swear, I feel like I can actually see the germs vibrating all over that place. *shudder*

It's a shame this is how I have to open this post. I'd had such beautiful recollections planned for this evening...

For you see, this afternoon, while The Kid was out with the Grandparents, I went out and bought a bike. I had conferred with Office Husband about it yesterday over lunch, and suggested a bicycle with shocks and all the assorted bike-related goodies. But in typical fashion, I chose form over function, and chose a beautiful eggplant-colored bike which was conveniently just $50.
I brought the bike home and, upon discovering I had a good hour and a half left until The Kid would return, I took the bike out for a ride.

Of course, the irony is that I had to drive the bike to another neighborhood to ride, as the local roads are a dangerous mix of narrow, curvy streets and moronic drivers.

This was my first new bike since I was 11, and it was my first time out on a bike since I was 15.

It's true what they say -- you never do forget how to ride. You just lose all your nerve.

I remembered being so steady and speedy in my youth. Instead, I crept at a snail's pace all wobbly down the street for a bit. Once I got my bearings, however, it was magical.

Suddenly, I was 14 again. We had just moved from a Blue State to Red State and both my parents were working outside the home for the first time, thus giving me my first taste of freedom. After school, I'd rush home from the bus stop, deposit my things in the empty house, and hop on my bike to find my friends or else just explore, the wind whipping through my dancing hair, the breeze on my face. Those days were so free.

After an hour, however, the breeze was no longer enough to counteract the sweat and humidity that clung to me. My lungs were on fire, and my legs felt like Jell-O. I rode back to my car, stowed the bike, and drove off with the windows down, marvelling at how effortless this breeze was to attain.

Who knew just how in shape we all were when we were kids?

My aerobic prowess will likely return as I ride with The Kid. That freedom slips through my fingers like the wind through my hair...


At 3/14/2006 4:49 PM, Blogger Small Town Diva said...

Wow, bike riding. It's been YEARS......


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