|See you tomorrow|
At the same time, earlier sunsets mean less time to get home before darkness settles in and accident rates skyrocket. No more carefree extended rides after work: These days, on days that aren't grey with torrential autumn rains and high winds, we simply point the bike home and ride with even greater care and focus.
So I didn't really have a lot of time to play with the other night as I rolled home. I was already pushing the timeline, as I had left the office a bit late (what else is new?) and I had rather stupidly decided to take the longer way home. I figured I'm running out of days to enjoy this particular stretch of riverside bike path, so why not?
I'm like that. Occasionally impetuous. Because I don't want to miss one last chance to drink in a moment. Even if it means fighting a darkening sky later on.
As I approached the lovely pedestrian bridge that marks the path's midway point, I noticed a bunch of people just hanging around with their phones and cameras. Time be damned, I stopped to be among them. Because how many sunsets do we get in a lifetime, anyway?
I lingered for a bit. I took this picture, as well as a few others. I tried to remember what it felt like to stand on this welcoming structure, in this welcoming place. By the time I rolled into my neighborhood a half-hour later, the street lights were on. I thought about the silliness of being late because a sunset beckoned, then dismissed the thought as I wondered about days spent never looking at the sun at all.
I'll be back on my bike today, and already I hope the sky puts on a similar show on the way home. I can't imagine what it must feel like to miss out on moments like these.
Your turn: Do you ever throw your schedule off in the pursuit of an otherwise trivial moment? Why is it worth it to you?