"Are you going for a bike ride and jogging?" It was Dylan. "Yeah, after I fix dinner.".."Okay, I'll wait and go with you.".."Really?...Well if that's the case, then I'll go now."..
And that was this afternoon after picking up the boys from school.
Dylan and I, in the air and sunshine, rode bicycles from the house, down the outer road on providence, past Grand Cru, slipping down the hill through the neighborhoods and onto the 'trail', riding past the soccer and playing fields, down over the creek and under the bridge behind the stadium, up past the research reactor. "Mom, you're senile..".."No, it is just a book plot." We were riding past the research reactor and I was pointing out the greenhouses and things behind electric fences. Large electric fences and mentioning the first time I noticed them and the things I thought, like, "Why put a greenhouse in a 'secure' area which is video monitored? Exactly WHAT are they growing there?..." And all sorts of plots and twists and conspiracy theories arose in my much addled brain. And it was the mention of those thoughts that led to the charges from Dylan. "Just stories honey, outlines for stories, fiction really." Which is ironic because I rarely read fiction but love movie fiction and creating "stories" which I always think I'll write, but then don't.
We pumped up the hill behind the ball field that edges the golf course. Dylan crested the hill first and sat at the top waiting for me. "This is the way we come to get to the golf course." He was telling me as I struggled up the hill. "Where to now?" So I told him and we headed down the curve of the road back out onto stadium before hitting the trail again.
They were working on the trail again today, repairing the wash-out so that parts of the trail were new and so smooth to ride on. At Forum we parked the bikes and had a jog. Dylan of course ran ahead and farther and returned to walk by me as I finished up a slow jog.
The bikes were unlocked and Dylan swung onto his, "I'm going to go by Grant's house...bye Mom.".."Okay, bye honey." I said to his back, watching him retreat in the opposite direction as I headed back toward town, choosing the trail which led to campus, and onto streets passing what used to be the natatorium, past the kids partying on the lawns, past the ROTC building, past the multi-storied student housing units where one year a kid overdosed in the stairwell, past the garage where a person lept to their death one year distraught over what?
But the afternoon was fine, the air warm, the sun bright and a good breeze blew as I headed past the football stadium and down the hill behind the new basketball arena, returning the way we had first come. Climbing the hill behind the Grand Cru, passing their apple trees, thinking, "Will they pick their apples this year or let them fall on the ground where I will collect them?"..but I won't be living here this fall, or not in this neighborhood anyway and I won't be riding by to see the apples flattened by car tires and thinking, why not? Surely it isn't thievery, not when they are on the ground being flattened...
Back on the outer road I saw Dylan heading toward the house from the opposite direction.