An Evening on My Bicycle

Yesterday, having the day off and being without obligations for the evening, something unusual for me, I decided to take a bike ride. I have had a lot on my mind lately and had woken up that morning thinking of my boyhood home, my day beginning with a desire to return to that hill of faded footprints of my youth. Where this desire came from is unbeknownst to me. I began to pedal and within half an hour was out of the city and into those rolling hills of my past. The power of the mind is an incredible thing; what is oceans away in memory can be but miles away on your bicycle. Though I have not set foot on the property since the summer of 1998, there was a sense of comfort that came over me as the valleys unfolded and that brick house of my childhood became visible at the top of the hill ahead. When I got closer and the hill was in full view, I stopped at the bottom and gazed upward.

I remembered eating vegetables straight out of my dad’s garden, I remember my mom pushing me on the swings. I remember 4th of Julys spent catching fireflies on the wooden deck my dad built by hand, staring down into the city below, the reflection of fireworks rising and falling in my thick glasses. That was before I knew there was any real hurt in this place, before I knew relationships fell apart, before I knew death, before I knew what it was to fall in love with a girl, to be broken, to be elated, to be overcome, overwhelmed. I remembered when it was enough to take walks with my dad, go swimming with my mom, and build forts with my brother until our parents read us to sleep.

I’m a man now, house, and I have been a lot of places since I left you. I’ve traveled oceans, climbed mountains, seen foreign lands. I’ve even started bands and played for lots of people. Mom and Dad split up a while ago, but you should see them now, they’re both doing so well. My little brother is bigger than me now, and he’s smart and handsome and he has so many friends, I’m so proud of him. I’ve fallen in love with girls since I left you, house, and it hurts sometimes and it aches right now but it makes me feel alive. I’ll be honest house; I’ve had some bad times since I’ve left you. I’ve cried and sulked, I’ve had days when I didn’t want to get out of bed, had times when I felt like my friends left me and I felt like I had no control over anything. Sometimes I feel lonely, house, but I’m doing OK, no, I’m doing great. It’s been a good life so far and when I feel bad I know it will always get better because I never, ever give up. I’m grown up now house, I’m alive and ready for the future. Maybe I’m not ready just yet but I’m getting closer. I’m going to be OK, house. I will see a lot more things before I’m done here, but I will never forget you. You were the setting of the first chapters in the book that is my life. I’m still writing that book and there have been some sad and scary parts, but it’s a good book and it’s going to have a happy ending and it couldn’t have happened the way it did without you. Your view helped me become an artist, your wide open spaces taught me to run, your bright stars and distant coyote howls taught me how to dream. Thank you, house on the hill.

I took in the view of the sun setting over the distant city where I wander alone daily, turned around, and rode out of those hills pregnant with memory and back into the city, back to my doorstep, back to my room. Sometimes I want to be a boy again, want to know what it is to be simple, but there is no retreating now. For now we push onward, onward through the breaking waves and the unforgiving storm, onward through the sleepless nights and the relentless days. The tranquil sea of childhood memory is behind us, and the future is ours.