5 years
ago today
a car
a bicycle
arrived
at the same place
at the same time.

One of us
kept going
one of us
didn't.

For 32 years
my bicycle
wasn’t just something I rode
she was
another limb,
carbon fiber
as anatomy.

Morning after morning
I clipped in
and headed out-
sometimes chasing fitness,
sometimes a finish line,
but mostly the meditative rhythm
of one more mile
and then another.

One hundred thousand
give or take.
CA's Hwy 1
Burlington to Quebec City
atatewide rides
charity rides
triathlons
half IM's
headwinds
tailwinds.

Long conversations
with no one
except the road.

What I miss
isn’t only the bicycle,
it’s the woman
who disappeared
into it.

The one
whose body knew
what to do
without her mind
getting involved.

That effortless conversation
between body
and bike.

The all-encompassing flow.

I’ve looked for that flow
ever since.
Everything else
is a distant second.

Now 
my body
has its own metal.
Not sleek
or weightless
like my bike frame.

Heavy.
Cumbersome.
Required.
Imperfect.

I once moved
with metal.

Now
I move
because of it.

The accident
didn’t only
break bones.

It unearthed
older fractures
I’d spent years
riding away from.

Some required a surgeon.

Some required a therapist.

Some became photographs.

Some became words.

Some became dreams.

I often wonder
who I would be
if that morning
had unfolded
like every other ride.

Would I have built
a photography business?

Would writing
have become
its own way
of making sense
of the world?

I’ll never know.

What I do know
is that grief
and gratitude
are
woven together,
stronger because 
of the other.

Sometimes
I dream
I’m riding.
No pain.
No hesitation.
No fear.

Just breath
and cadence
and sky.

Then I wake
to this body,
different but
still carrying me.

And I remember
that not everything
the accident took
is lost.

It left me
with photography and customers.
With words.
With a life
I never would have chosen,
but one I have learned
to appreciate
and love.

Just yesterday,
driving home,
I passed
someone gliding
down the very road
where my path 
ended.

Some part of me went with them.