Amidst all the stress and disappointment that seems to characterize my life these days, I had a moment of pure and total contented happiness, and it was a treasured gift.
Adam and I were riding on his motorcycle some night last week. We were zooming along the Bayview Extension, as we usually do (who goes the limit on this road anyway?? – nobody!), the sky above already deep blue and speckled with electric stars.
It’s the perfect stretch of road — smooth and winding. My arms were wrapped loosely around Adam’s leather-clad middle, thighs hugging gently. I could feel the wind push steadily against my body, the cool touch on my exposed neck. Barely feeling the road below us, we glided along the road like a pebble skipping across water’s surface. I closed my eyes and felt weightless, floating, gently propelled forward and all I had to grasp was this man in front of me. Everything and nothing and Adam and me.
I’ve experienced this ride many times. I look forward to this particular stretch of road each trip, but this time I was different. Indeed, I often think of how vulnerable we are in these moments and resolve myself to the risk, but never before have I felt such an overwhelming sense of gratitude for this vulnerability.
I’ll admit, since my life changed in the many ways it did a few years ago I’ve had difficulty allowing myself to be vulnerable and to trust others or trust in myself — a feeling so foreign and alienating for me, the gal who’s always worn her heart on her sleeve. In this moment though, this night, pressed against Adam alone and gliding through the night I felt myself open again, if only for a moment. I felt the beauty of exposure, of risk, of the strength within myself and I felt grateful, grateful for life and love and kindness, and grateful to be able to feel again.