Susan Senator

Nat was particularly energetic this a.m. so I decided to take him on a bike ride prior to my own regular morning ride. I do about 12 miles daily here, riding either on back roads along the bay and the dunes and the woods, or crossing route 6 and riding through the woods to the dunes along the ocean. Sounds like a lot of the same thing but it is actually very different. The bay ride is very yellow and the air is closer; the ocean ride is very pale green and wide open. I choose the route based on how I’m feeling and what I’m in the mood for.

I usually go three-fourths of the route and end up at my parents’ house, where I get some coffee and we sit together on the sunny deck or on the screened-in porch. That’s a comforting interlude for me; hugs, coffee, and laffs, and then back on Mr. Yamamoto (my bike) and home.

I wanted to take Nat over to my parents’ house today, around 3 1/2 miles, and he seemed pretty game. I was struck by how calm and quiet the roads were despite it being a workday for many here. The colors were nursery-fresh: splayed-open pink beach rose and little fingers of yellow and white honeysuckle. Is there anything better than that?

Nat was spacey, however. He seemed unused to the bike, even though he’s been on it before, and he kept riding towards the center line of the street. He also did not appear to be noticing stop signs. So, the whole time, I had to stay within three feet of him and watch him, calling out directions (which he attended to very well). I felt a little bit discouraged for a moment, being confronted so sharply with his disability.

It’s still not a breeze to go bike riding with Nat. I’m not even sure it’s fun. But he’s a darling, and he enjoys so much of what he does. And I do feel proud of how much he can do. So even though I have to be so vigilant when I’m with him, in one way or another, when the road is quiet and safe, and I’m watching his bouncing helmeted head and hearing snippets of self-talk, feeling the warmth on my skin, I just feel overwhelmingly glad to be alive — and to have those moments with him.