I had a dream.
I was on a journey. A bike ride. A long bike ride. There were no paved roads where I was. I knew there were paved roads ‘ahead’ but I didn’t know how to get to them. My bike had a passenger seat. The passenger seat was occupied by my Dad. My dad could not help me peddle. He couldn’t steer or influence my direction by leaning. He also was not a burden. His weight did not affect my bike. The only thing my Dad could do was talk to me.
The roads and trails were all muddy but some were easier paths than others. Dad would point out to me where we were going and then would advise me how to get there. He would tell me where the difficult patches were and how to avoid them. He’d show me which path, of several options, was the least draining to travel.
With his help the way was hard but not as hard as it could have been. The only extremely difficult time I remember was when I decided on a course that contradicted what Dad told me. I thought I saw an easier, more efficient route so I took it. The way was filled with bumps, mudholes and slow going. Mud would build up on my tires until I was forced to stop several times to scrap it off just to be able to move again. Continue reading