There is this heavily wooded trail I like to bike on. I turn on some Reggae, pop in my earphones, and ride until my legs start to cramp. It’s a way for me to think, and oftentimes, an escape from thinking at all. A peacefulness in this exceptionally loud and chaotic world.
For an hour or so, depending on how lazy I am that day, I am enveloped in this tiny, modern version of an enchanted forest. I feel like Snow White, minus the hunter trying to carve out my heart and store it in a wooden box. Cardinals and Blue Jays float on the same magical breeze that combs my hair, butterflies flutter next to me for entire stretches of road, bunnies hop along in that way they do, and the entire time I am half expecting woodland fairies to come out and weave me a flower crown.
By the end of it all, I’m covered in glitter–or maybe that’s sweat–and filled with so much fresh air and sunshine I’m deliriously happy. Or maybe just delirious because I usually forget to drink water, or bring water, or apply sunscreen.
It’s this one little thing, though, that is mine. And even though there was this moment today where I was trying to save this baby from this fire and in doing so I hit the front brake instead of the rear brake and I completely flew over the handlebars in a way that I haven’t since I was ten-years-old, it’s still this thing that makes me happy. The baby was fine, by the way, and real or imagined, does it really matter? Everyone was fine in the end.