I was remembering someone I've lost on my ride home tonight. I spoke with him a bit, out loud, and it seemed to help. Not that I could hear his voice or anything, but I could strike up a conversation in the tone and manner that we used to speak to one another, and it was comforting, if a bit strange, for me to do it aloud as I rode along on my bicycle on a fine evening.
These late summer skies and low slanting equinoctical sun rays grab me, shake me a little bit, and remind me that I'm alive, and to make the most of it. Sometimes that's what the ride is about: he had heart problems, and I don't want those, so I should ride good, and far, and happy, to avoid them. That's what all the cloud photos are about, I think. At this particular moment they appear to be a bit inevitable for me, necessary, and apologies if they are growing thin here on the blog.
Tonight remembering the lost, and talking to him, helped me to clear my mind, ease my heart, and lift my spirits, in the remembering of his voice answering mine, in the way that our minds would bend to the other to meet in the middle and across the years that separated us, setting aside our clear differences to spend a few moments in time together with strong mutual understanding coming naturally. Beneath the harvest moon, with the summer winding down, is a natural time for it. Remembering, perhaps gazing at the clouds from my bicycle a bit longer than warranted, perhaps talking aloud with the lost. The loss is still there. But then, I too am still here, I'm reminded by this moment, to honor him with a little bit of joy in that, sometimes.
*Kevin Berry's "Tributary Wall" sculpture / gabion basket and rusty fish noise wall