“Did you hear about the two cyclists?” A cyclist—a stranger—asked me.
“No, I hadn’t.”
I had stopped to appreciate all the details of this roadside memorial. The flowers are half gone, but I could tell someone very beloved passed away here. The framed photo. The personal effects. As I would later learn, someone’s wife passed away here. Someone’s mom. A person.
“Look at this.”
I did. It was hard to look away.
“Whoever created this did a beautiful job.”
“I agree.”
“Every day is a gift. There are no guarantees.”
“Agree 100 percent.”
Without being able to contribute something more meaningful to the discussion, I got back on my bike and cycled away. Maybe 40 minutes later, the cyclist and I crossed each other on the Fox River Trail.
“We have to stop meeting like this!” He exclaimed with a wide grin.
I smiled and kept cycling.
