As I'm hurtling down a hill at 35 mph I never think about crashing. Yet, I know it could happen and sometimes wonder why I do it. The truth is, I'm pretty attached to this life. Particularly, I am attached to my children. As they have grown and moved away from me, I search for ways to stay connected. Louis now lives in Boston in a house with a bunch of guys who love bikes. They collect them and build them. They ride them to school and work and play bike polo. Their house is littered with bikes and bike parts. So, cycling is something that connects us.The beat of the distant drummer has always sounded loudly in my head. A times, it has seemed a curse, setting me apart from others. I think my children hear it too, and it worries me. Like the mother pig who sends her piglets off to make homes for themselves, I hope my children have learned to avoid the big bad wolves. I wonder if I should have taught them more about building a house of bricks instead of sticks. But then, as I am hurtling down a hill at 35 mph feeling the spark of life that connects me to everything, I find I can let go of worries. I know my children share that spark, and maybe that's enough.
Walden Pond, a kettlehole formed by retreating glaciers, is now a popular swimming spot. Even on this early spring day there were hardy children in the water. The 19th century transcendentalist Henry David Thoreau spent a couple of years at Walden attempting to "live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived."
The music is Clocks, by Coldplay
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Part Two of Three