It’s easy to forget it’s out there.
The relief of burying stress beneath the careless roost of mid-turn roll-ons. The bully glee of shoving aside real-life responsibility, to clear focus for delicate placement of the front tire between wet pine needles. I’ll be at work tomorrow. Today I’ll get away.
I’d forgotten how to breathe like this. We stopped our bikes in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of the road, in the middle of no one’s way. I wanted to melt into the weeds, inhale the coastal hillside air, let the moss and insects dissolve me. Maybe I did.
It takes only a day to remember it’s possible, to forget it’s not. I should have taken it earlier, but the demons defeated by days like these do their damnedest to keep them past arm’s reach.
At least today, I got away.