. . . keep looking back

. . . “Do you feel it?  How the scenery closes up behind us?” says Middest.

“I know.  I was feeling that too.  Like a curtain,” I say.

“Or a waterfall,” says Eldest.  “Like how water closes when you come out of it.”

“I know.  Me, too.  It’s like we’ve finished.  We don’t ever have to come this way again.”

“Though we could.”

“We have to,” YoungSon insists. “I haven’t ever done it yet all alone on my own bike.”

“True,” I say. “Probably we will. Maybe.  We could come this way again.”

“And I’ll be coming home for summers,” says Eldest.  “Some summers.”

“Probably we’ll do it again.”

“But it won’t be the same.”

“Nonsense,” says Fritz. “It’s not the end.”. . .

[story: “The Bike Report (4/5): Recovery, Return . . . no rain!”]


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