5:30 on an early Wednesday morning and I am acutely aware that I am awake. There is the final breath of dawn and the former night’s rays in their last moments of solitude. I have seen these with my own eyes because, after fighting long and hard with my indecisive self, my conscience caved and led me to a blunt (and, safe to say, compulsive) decision – a task that should have long been on the top of my repertoire – to bring Papa’s bike back to life.
It feels great to be up and on the road again just before day break. I have the world and your bike all to myself, and I am allowed to explore more, since running, which I did in one phase, just tired the living out of me and distracted me from truly “seeing”. With the goal being to Mitty-fy (inspired by the most awesome movie I have seen to date, “The Secret Life of Walter Mitty”) and Libby-fy (do you still have to wonder where I drew this motivation from?) myself, I will try not to be tied down by inhibitions. I am in the state of actually “doing” now, and the plan is to keep going until I will be better at it.
But just to let you know from now on, I will always see how you had once, unceasingly followed this road that led you to your next adventure. I will try to defeat the mountains you conquered on a daily basis, and I will learn love like how the sun once colored your skin; brazen and unashamed of the trickling blood on your scabbed knee, because you respected the road that tripped your wheel. It was not at fault, because it was meant to be there, ordained by the complicated results of an ecological cycle; it was natural, like how I am now living after your life.
I will promise to be brave. These eyes you have imparted to me, though blurry with a 150/125 grade (it’s worsening!), will see the sights you’ve seen without haze. So here’s to an exhilaratingly new experience towards the uncertainties of stones and trees and curves and pavements. Your life will be my adventure, Papa. You were one real Walter Mitty.