everything else: june 25 (possibly again)
dear internet,
i tried to send this yesterday but it doesn't seem to have worked, and just realised i'd titled it "june 26," which was not actually yesterday's date. fate? anyway, here it is, maybe for the second time, in which case apologies.
at the canal those weeks ago we decided that our next trip would be on our bikes. i agreed, water still drying on my skin; i'd been worried about the canal but in the end swimming had been easy, and anyway as a child i'd biked around the lake every day. but today we stood outside in thirty-degree weather and i tried to get onto one bike, then another, and discovered that this was different. i felt a swimming-past-your-depth, scabbed-knee helplessness i remember from childhood. in five minutes i had said, several times, "it's fine, you guys, i don't think i do this, you go on ahead." my flatmates waited, patient, unworried. they lowered one seat, then another. one of them stood next to me to recite my movements. "you put one foot on the pedal first, but you're still standing, you sit once you start pedalling." i wobbled, feeling five years old with four parents watching me. i biked down the street, turned, biked back, couldn't figure out how to stop. "we can try this a few more times," my flatmates said, and biked slow twenty-metre loops with me. when i felt readier we walked our bikes past the busiest roads before starting to ride. at the first red light i couldn't start when it turned green because my body wanted to pedal with my left foot first, which the bicycle would not allow. "other foot first," my flatmates chorused. my other foot couldn't first so we just waited for the lights to change once more. two of them rode behind me and two ahead. once in a while someone yelled, "you doing okay?" and i replied, "still on the bike!"
we biked to the river—across a bridge, down the gravel paths that lined the canal, through a tree-lined stretch in which we were the only people on the road. we walked across dry grass to dip our feet in the water, and then we got ice cream. on our walk back to the river a tick crawled across my shin. the water was a sort of glutinous brown but two of my flatmates went in; i sat on the side feeling phantom insects run across my skin. we watched a posse of ducks, a dog playing fetch. when we spotted the kingfisher everyone turned to look at me. the fish were orange flashes darting just below the surface of the water. as we left, i said, "look, there's the moon," pointing down, and my flatmate said, "should i dive in and get it?"
the way back was hotter. at the same traffic light i stopped and couldn't start. "other foot first," we all said. the lights turned red and green again, and when we got home, i was still on the bike.
love,
t
i tried to send this yesterday but it doesn't seem to have worked, and just realised i'd titled it "june 26," which was not actually yesterday's date. fate? anyway, here it is, maybe for the second time, in which case apologies.
at the canal those weeks ago we decided that our next trip would be on our bikes. i agreed, water still drying on my skin; i'd been worried about the canal but in the end swimming had been easy, and anyway as a child i'd biked around the lake every day. but today we stood outside in thirty-degree weather and i tried to get onto one bike, then another, and discovered that this was different. i felt a swimming-past-your-depth, scabbed-knee helplessness i remember from childhood. in five minutes i had said, several times, "it's fine, you guys, i don't think i do this, you go on ahead." my flatmates waited, patient, unworried. they lowered one seat, then another. one of them stood next to me to recite my movements. "you put one foot on the pedal first, but you're still standing, you sit once you start pedalling." i wobbled, feeling five years old with four parents watching me. i biked down the street, turned, biked back, couldn't figure out how to stop. "we can try this a few more times," my flatmates said, and biked slow twenty-metre loops with me. when i felt readier we walked our bikes past the busiest roads before starting to ride. at the first red light i couldn't start when it turned green because my body wanted to pedal with my left foot first, which the bicycle would not allow. "other foot first," my flatmates chorused. my other foot couldn't first so we just waited for the lights to change once more. two of them rode behind me and two ahead. once in a while someone yelled, "you doing okay?" and i replied, "still on the bike!"
we biked to the river—across a bridge, down the gravel paths that lined the canal, through a tree-lined stretch in which we were the only people on the road. we walked across dry grass to dip our feet in the water, and then we got ice cream. on our walk back to the river a tick crawled across my shin. the water was a sort of glutinous brown but two of my flatmates went in; i sat on the side feeling phantom insects run across my skin. we watched a posse of ducks, a dog playing fetch. when we spotted the kingfisher everyone turned to look at me. the fish were orange flashes darting just below the surface of the water. as we left, i said, "look, there's the moon," pointing down, and my flatmate said, "should i dive in and get it?"
the way back was hotter. at the same traffic light i stopped and couldn't start. "other foot first," we all said. the lights turned red and green again, and when we got home, i was still on the bike.
love,
t
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