I'm done with not knowing for sure

By pedaling madly, coasting and carefully carefully sharing the narrow bridge with cars speeding across the island, we made it to the end of the road and the beach! It was a long but beautiful ride. It wore us out, and we took ourselves and our bikes back in a taxi.

I got on a bicycle on Monday. It was a rickety, squeaky cruising bike, and I was happy that it seemed well-used. It looked like my bike--the one in my dining room that I wish were well-used. How is it possible to feel guilty about not riding a bike? The one on Monday had a care-free air. It had been enjoyed for years before I rode it, and knew it would go on many more rides whether I came along or not. Either way, it was going to do what it was made to do and fulfill its purpose. Happiness.

My bike is reliant on me to fulfill its purpose. It makes me happy to look at it--I absolutely love the idea of it. I picture myself riding it all around town...doing my little errands, wind blowing through my hair and clothes. Sometimes I'm carrying my laptop and school books on my back when my daydreams are responsible. Other times I'm just hopping on to head to Trader Joe's to pick up $3 wine or going to Katie's for any reason or none.

I haven't done those things, though.

Someone gave me this beautiful shiny sky blue bike. It's perfect for me in so many ways. It's not new--it's old-fashioned looking and has those guards that protect you from the top part of the wheels. It has character. I know it wasn't as it is now before he gave it. He saw its potential when he bought it--spent hours cleaning, polishing, making it shine for me. Checked the gears, chains, tires--made it safe for me. Put a big red bow on it and gave it to me because it could make me smile. It made me smile when I first got it, and it still makes me smile when I see it. I smile, but I also want to cry. I wonder why I feel as though I can't handle the responsibility of having something so lovely for myself. Still, I love the idea of it.