After dropping off food for friends and having lunch with my mother, I found myself Traveling at the Speed of Bike, yet again, on a nearby greenway that often overflows (but not today), where there’s a herd of deer and birds that sound like monkeys.
I stopped in various places to balance my phone in a tree, its self-timer set to try to take the required headshot for the Local Authors Tent at the upcoming Lemonade Days Festival, where my book will be for sale soon. I didn’t get the photo I need yet. However, I got this one, and others that are oddly comforting to me.
I am coming and going from the various trees in the photos that I like. Looking inward and looking outward. Unprepared and yet still centered somehow in myself. I increasingly feel a tenderness, a love, for the girl I see just lingering beneath the surface.
Likewise, I somehow loved the girl I saw in every woman who went to a Local Authors book reading at a coffee shop this past Tuesday night a-short-bike-ride-on-Magic away from my home, their dreams still so alive. I somehow love the girl I see in my mother. And I somehow love the girl I see in you*.
* See Dear Girl
Traveling at the Speed of Bike 