Jun. 18th, 2016

dariaphoebe: (redhead)
It was just over 90 minutes since I'd clambered aboard the borrowed bicycle for a morning ride. I knew the end of the trail was unpaved, but it wasn't clear where the trail ended. When the ever-narrowing dirt rut I was following ended, I looked at a map, and realized how far I'd gone. Might as well spend a couple more minutes, I told myself: I was so close, even though it would change my return travel plans.

As I called her, the brief stop was still on my mind. After negotiating a large, multi-lane traffic circle, I locked the bicycle to a sign, snapped a picture, and walked east a very short distance, until the land ran out.

I'd thought, as I looked at the picture of the water beneath my feet, that maybe I should have called from the beach. That moment had been my first steps in the ocean. I wondered when hers had been. Now we were chatting, and I mentioned where I'd been. She volunteered an answer before I could ask the question.

"I won't make it back for dinner for your birthday," I told her. "I'm still in Massachusetts." All week I'd been musing to myself and others that I wish I lived here already, but as we talked, I realized the impending move wouldn't be without a different set of burdens.

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dariaphoebe

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