Saturday, May 23, 2009

Cycling, Chaos, and Success

I rounded up the family for a rare bike ride on a spectacular Spring day. Not without protestations, mind you! It's not easy coordinating the interests of a 15-year old girl with a younger brother, an overworked professor, and underwhelmed homemaker.

Where to go? We didn't know - I figured it best to just get moving. Meandering through our historic neighborhood, one wild wipeout and bloody shin later, we made it onto a sidewalk alongside the busiest road in town. Blithely in the lead I veered to the right, onto a promising looking dirt road. Hearing a rise of complaints behind me which I chose to ignore, I plowed ahead. The dirt road led to some muddy potholes, then into a farmer's cornfield.

Along the edge of the field there appeared to be a narrow trail, maybe for the farmer to walk on. Rocks, deer gnawed corn cobs, branches, and what appeared to be poison ivy cluttered the trail. "Just more of an adventure!" I thought, promptly crashing down on a pile of natural debris, a nearby bush scraping my face. Soon we were all walking our bikes, the terrain far too difficult to navigate.

Around the corner, high rise office buildings came into view. "Ugh, not at all what I want to see," I said. We rode on, miserably looking down at what became a macadam road, surrounded by civilization. One twisted ankle, a bloody leg, scarcely any water, and muffled tears later a segment of our group threatened to turn back. "No, we're not giving up!" I commanded, angrily cycling on.

Another dirt path came into view and my husband took the lead. This time, the trail was even and gradually approached a forest. Oddly, the path continued long into the woods and was even somewhat manicured. A silence fell on us as we cycled amongst large oaks and maples, wild jasmine, flox, and fiddle-head fern with the sounds of scurrying bunnies, squirrels, and a distant woodpecker serenading us - all the way home.

It occurred to me how much like life our trip was: not always being sure where you're going - but, setting forth, bravely meeting uncertainty, discomfort, and even danger along the way. And while moving forward, we may catch glimpses of order, beauty, and unusual peace. Once home - a bit weary, perhaps even shaken - we're find ourselves richer and, if lucky, wiser for having made the journey.

A Ladies Luncheon

The moxie of my 88-year old aunt amazes me.  She recently relocated to our tiny, East coast town - all the way from Texas.  Why? To live with her 85-year old sister, my mother.  We moved her into their new digs last week, out in a country cottage with a beautiful view of verdant green mountains.  

Our first outing together:  rally the ladies' walkers and wind our way up a hill to the main building for lunch at the progressive care facility's lovely dining room. After all, lunch is included in the cost of their independent-living cottage.  

All dressed up, make-up carefully checked, we began our stroll.  Not an easy one, given my aunt's hip replacement and Mom's degenerative spine.  I got to the top of the hill first, thinking I'd hold the door open and help park the strollers (as I call them).  

But, nothing prepared me for what I saw:  a hearse, motor running and coldly waiting, while staff rolled a blue cloth-covered body out the door.  I glanced down the hill - good, they were both still a ways off. Sobered, I quietly watched the ritual:  open the hatch door, roll the gurney to the edge, slide the lifeless body in, carefully maintain the thoughtful cover. Quickly, the hearse drove off and the staff walked briskly inside just as my mother and aunt's smiling faces appeared at the top of the knoll.

My private experience reminds me of how closely life/anticipation/joy coexist with death/dread/sorrow.  They always have and they always will. 

 With renewed appreciation for my lovely ladies, I held the door open and we headed toward our free lunch.