Some day soon I'm going to write about something other than how happy I am to be on my bike again. Today, I'm still a one-note symphony.
Last night some of my family got together for a dinner cruise--riding our bikes to a local restaurant. Evan didn't ride but met us for dinner. We had a fabulous time and stayed longer than we'd planned. It was quite dark when we finished, but I still wanted to ride home. My nephew, not wanting to be outdone by a mere girl—and an old one at that—agreed to go with me.
We rode a gravel trail through a park, along a river. No lights. Nothing lighted nearby. The sky was overcast and the thumbnail crescent moon wouldn't have helped much anyway. The gravel is light gray, so the path was basically visible enough to follow and that was it.
After we'd gone too far to go back, my nephew yelled from behind me, "This might not be the smartest thing we've ever done."
"My life's full of 'not the smartest thing.' " I yelled back. "Never regretted a single one of them. Keep pedaling."
We rode into a section completely canopied by trees. Dark like you can't believe--deepest, darkest, blackest dark. Twenty feet into it, we were surrounded by fireflies--thousands of winking, twinkling miracles. Terrified and enchanted in equal degrees, I couldn't decide whether to ride faster to get out of the dark or slower to soak up the magic.
In the fields beyond the canopied section, we were greeted by hundreds and thousands more fireflies. I've truly never seen so many so close.
When we got to the park, I hated to be finished. Riding that trail in the dark was foolish. Terrifying. Exhilarating. The most fun I've had in years.
Magic is everywhere, but you only find it when you say YES. Finally home in bed, my entire body buzzed with the sibilance of Molly Bloom: yes I will yes I am Yes.