At almost 8 o'clock tonight I cast a glance outside to the dimming light, and felt the stagnant air come through the window, and felt a sudden urge to go cycling. So I followed it, as isn't always the case. But Mom and Dad were headed out for the evening, and Grandma and Grandpa were occupied on the internet (peering at the screen so cautiously, like grandparents do), and I felt free and unneeded.
Off to the east, pedaling up Morgan Horse Farm Road I saw the Green Mountains' ridgeline, stationary and buried in a blue haze, beyond the pasture and the greenest hedgerow I've seen. Only a few cars passed. I went left on Hamilton Road, facing a pink sky, and felt a few countable raindrops. The farmland smelled like farmland, with the narrow road draped across the shallow hills, lined with fenceposts which were gray and weathered, and the hayfields freshly cut.
I went left on a dirt connecting road, passing a pen of sheep behind a row of brush and fence. The sheepdog saw me and barked up and down the row until he was sure I wasn't going to stop. I wasn't.
Around the next corner I saw a crouching cat first, then the two rabbits it was hunting, who were paused in the road ahead. The cat changed its posture but eyed me with accusation anyway, and the rabbits darted and weaved in front of my wheels before plunging into the underbrush.
Further the road swarmed with blackbirds and more rabbits. And the farmhouses stood squarely and quietly, and the light continued to fade.
I wondered to myself why calm cycles weren't a part of my routine; but it always seems that giving myself the license to pedal off would steal my mind from the things directly at hand. In reality, it focused my mind on the things that are really important. I understood again why some people are so committed to their jogs or walks or workouts. In my mind, anway, the means are the excuse to remove oneself from the busy world.
As I coasted down the last hill on Route 23, I thought I saw headlights over my left shoulder. I craned and looked, but it was only the sunset lighting up a patch of yellow sky.
Tuesday the packing began and was finished. It didn't look like much when it was all laid out on the bed--and some of it I think I'll be mailing back from LA before I go to Vietnam. I have the feeling that it isn't really possible to pack for a year. I'll simply have to wait and see how it works out. At least I know I won't have overpacked.
