I got on the bike. The girls bike painted a dainty blue. I got on the bike and I began to ride.
I would ride until the trail ended, until the road gave way to rock. I would ride mindful o nothing but motion and when I could not ride anymore, when my back tire swirled in sand, then I would walk.
I would walk, following my own path, angling towards the horizon, or a few degrees to the left. I would walk until forever, until my sandals turned to socks and my socks thinned to dust. I would walk through blisters and past exhausted legs. I would walk until there was no more land. And then, the great blue sea indistinguishable from the sky, I would swim.
I would swim past the buoys and through the tankers’ wakes. I would swim into the emptiness until nothing remained but me and water. I would swim until my arms gave out, and my lungs and heart and then I would float or sink or fly.
But I would go on. Through each turn and over each hill. I would go on until all became clear, until I understood what is right at the edge of my vision. I would go on until I heard the very voice of God. Whether whispered with a tickle against my neck or hollered until my eardrums hurt I would go on until I heard it, and then - only then - would I stop. And rest. And smile.
And so I set out on my ladies bike. It was old and rusty but silent. And I biked until my bike would go no further. And so I walked, the sand cushioned my footsteps. The sun echoed my journey in the sky above me. I walked until my toes hurt. I walked until my back ached. I walked until soft sand turned to sharp rocks.
And then, hungry (I hadn’t much of a breakfast) and missing my friends, I turned around and went home.