Chasing Cloud Shadows

I remember those hot summer days out on my bike. I can’t stay in the house another moment, I just have to get outside. August, you know the end is near, school will start soon, and unstructured time will come to a close. So do everything.

There is a tension between the lazy staying up and sleeping late and the hurry-up of waking early to get it all in.

I hop on my bike when the dew is still on the ground and the sky is just brightening. The morning and landscape spread out before me as I iron the hills beneath my tires, as the ribbon of roadway unfurls before me. A fox crosses the blacktop and scitters into a crack in a stone wall, I turn a corner and there stands a deer, flicking its tail, its eyes glued on me until it too bounds away.

Suddenly the sun is beating down directly above and there are no bicycle shadows. Heat waves shimmer upward from the asphalt like eye tricks. And, I realize I have little water, no snacks and no money. I have gone further than I intended to and now must get home before I perish beneath an unforgiving sun.

Pedaling like crazy, I try for the next bit of shade cast by trees, like beads in a necklace, going from jewel to jewel, small glimpses of relief. I have visions of my body being found fried to a crisp. I blame myself for not planning well—except this happens all the time!

Stupid kid, now an adult, now an old lady. The years past and I’ve learned nothing.

The desire to get outside, the pressure of summer ending—and what do I have to show for it? I must, I must, I must be somewhere, out there, in it. Until I’m suddenly in over my head. This is my life pattern.

Twenty miles to go—and I’m chasing cloud shadows. The randomness of the universe has decided to show mercy upon my poor soul, giving me grace, On the open road out in farm country where there are no trees a shadow envelops me. Up above a cloud obscures the sun and I find refuge, something to pull me forward, to keep me going.