The Calm Before the Calm

I’m leaving to go on a 7-day, 450 mile bike ride in about 4 hours. I haven’t packed yet; there is so much to do, but it will all happen soon enough. There is time for one last blog entry.

It’s dark out this morning. The night sky is clear, yet here in Oregon magic happens and it’s drizzling. It hasn’t rained in months and the aroma of wet desert is exotic yet wonderfully familiar. The dampness and chill morning air carry a hint of winter. I stand outside in shorts and t-shirt, staring at the stars, while thinking of snow.

My wife is gone for the weekend and she took the dog. When UPS rang the doorbell yesterday, it was only then that I realized our doorbell doesn’t actually go “ding-dong-woof-woof-woof”.

As I drift around, making preparations to leave, the house feels strangely empty. I should be more frantic, there is much to do: pack clothes and food, take out the trash, straighten the wheel on my bike, find the tent and sleeping bag, call the bike shop… The list goes on.

But there is an irresistable serenity at work. The calm before the calm.

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