It’s a beautiful day in Austin. The wind just a touch brusque, the sky a friendly spring blue full of the whirling silhouettes of falcons and buzzards, I was inspired to go on a nice long bike ride in a sun dress and jeans.

The downtown library in Austin is four stories high. I still have moments when I feel like some small-town girl lost in the big city. The air conditioning was on in celebration of global warming, but I was only inside for a moment, my rendezvous waiting in the front. Back outside on a low bench in the sunlight, a few moments of cliched phrases and trite responses to my questioning stare left me alone outside the Austin Public Library.

Dead leaves rustled and crunched, whispers of February rains and ice which may not be. A scrawny kid with a skateboard, maybe twenty, called out that it was a beautiful day, that I looked sad when it was such a good day. I smiled a little and listened to the kid tell an erratic story of climbing to the top of the parking garage across the street, spiraling back towards the street and narrowly avoiding the bus. He was spinning the skateboard chaotically, pointing here and there to nicks among millions of nicks in the wood as proof of his harrowing escape from a sure death in the traffic. Two more boys walked up and greeted the first skater; I took the distraction as a chance to shoulder my backpack and jump on my bike before welling emotion had a chance to explode.

It’s about seven miles, including the river crossing, from the library to my place. Mostly uphill, my little single-speed Schwinn sometimes makes odd clacking and clanking sounds when I am standing up in the seat fighting the breeze and gravity. My mind was hardly distracted by the ruts and bumps and gravel of the path home. Even as my body and wheels struggled to crest and fly down and crest again, heart and mind raged and cursed and wept and laughed and raged and laughed again. Settling upon a Sunday chance taken in honesty and trust, anger would well up again, just barely tempered by the swell of the hills.

It was a long ride, and I forgot to put on sunscreen. All sorts of things are aching

Advertisement