Winter is slowly creeping from the mountain peaks into the valley this morning at the hub.
It smells like freshly brewed coffee. I’m sitting at the kitchen table, looking out into the mountains. Once again I start daydreaming about mountain biking but this time I start to think back to a time I lived by the ocean. In this short story, I reminisce about the ocean and how it compares to my newfound mountain reality. I ask the question, what is your favorite memory and how does it translate to your current life?
Enjoy!
My eyes are closed, I can see a beam of light flashing behind my eyelids.
The scattered light is coming from a lighthouse beaming through the fog. I am walking closer and closer toward the light. I can feel the sun low in the sky and the cool salty ocean breeze on my face. My father and I are laughing as we make our way down the beach. We are on vacation in Maine during summer break. While walking off our heavy lobster lunch, we reflect on the simple things before setting sail up the coast. We head to our sailboat anchored offshore, all packed and ready to depart on our journey. I quickly wade through the cold water leaping through the waves, hoisting my body into the boat over the smooth wood siding. I slip but catch myself on the warm lacquered deck. The fog remains heavy while I help my father into the boat. Not one word is spoken to each other while we raise the mast and set sail into the open ocean. As I wrap the last coil on the bow, I catch a glimpse of my father smiling as he steers us around the obstacles and out of the harbor. Looking off into the distance, I close my eyes and feel the salty breeze getting harder and stronger as we gain speed while pushing through the fog. The flashing light is getting faster and faster behind my closed eyelids.
I open my eyes.
I’m staring down at my white knuckles gripping onto the handlebars. Looking beyond, I see bursts of yellow and gold streaming below the pedals. The sunlight is beaming like a strobe through the trees as I fly full-speed downhill on my mountain bike. Flashing faster and faster, I rip through the scrub oak forest. Bracing myself for the worst, I hang on tight to my handlebars while curving around the obstacles and launching over rocks buried in the leaves. The steep slope finally flattens out and I slow down to find my boyfriend waiting. We have a quick laugh from the adrenaline while catching our breath. We casually continue pedaling through yellow and gold leaves littering the ground while debating the change in the seasons. It’s fall in Colorado, and a flock of birds passes by overhead flying south for the winter. If there were any problems, they would simply be forgotten. Nothing could possibly be more significant when the moment is this perfect. The slope increases, we speed up to continue down the mountain. As I lead the way, the fresh mountain breeze picks up, the sweat on my forehead streams into my open mouth, transporting me back in time to a past life I once lived on the ocean. As I float above the earth on my mountain bike through the trees, I expect to see my father floating ahead, sailing off into the distance. But here I am, steering myself through my obstacles, creating new memories with my lover in the mountains.
I close my eyes.