A Different View

In an increasingly challenging attempt to kill two birds with one stone by getting in some steps while actually going somewhere, I walked the three miles up to my brother's house this afternoon. There, he and my sister-in-law and I spent a pleasant hour sitting six feet apart outside in the warm afternoon sun.

When it was time for me to come home, I ducked around the corner to a bike share station to take advantage of the downhill route. Perhaps it was the wind in my hair, but as I was pedaling, it seemed like a fine idea to pursue a more meandering path, and so I cut through the neighborhoods and past our school.

Once there, I could not simply ride by the deserted brown brick building that has been my work place for so many years. No, I steered the bike past the garden and around to the front and paused on the walkway in front of my classroom. The window faces west, and the golden April afternoon sun shone on it like a mirror. I squinted to see the bookshelves, the chalkboard, or something else inside, but all I saw was me on a borrowed bike remembering how the light used to fall across my desk at just this time of the day.