Ok, so I originally had this story in my last post, but it just didn’t fit the tone of the rest of the post, and well, it’s just kind of “weird.” So, I took it out shortly after the last posting. My mom read it first, though, and she called today requesting that I re-write it because it was her favoritest thing ever…

A few miles in to my solo ride home from where I’d split from the Outdoors Ride group, I rode by a cemetary and had what I can only explain as a psychic experience. As I approached, I noticed two African American men standing next to each other, hands in their pockets, heads down, looking at a memorial. Passing by, one of them looked up at me. At the same instant, I felt intense sadness. It sucked the breath out of my lungs as if it had traveled across the headwind from him and been absorbed into my capillaries. I believe those were two family members (probably brothers) that were visiting their mom at the cemetary. No idea really how I know, but that’s the sort of feeling I got. It was hard not to start crying- I felt as if I’d been shot. I did my best to compose my thoughts, and the next chance I got, pulled over to call my mom & wish her a happy Mother’s Day.