Autopilot

Being home sometimes is so therapeutic. I was riding my brother's bike around the greenbelts (the sidewalks of our town are through the forest), and all of these old memories came flooding back to me like all the times that my friends and my brother and his friends and I would go to the woods near the one bridge over the little creek and play for hours. They usually tried to catch bugs, and we would walk around and around. It made me wonder why memories are so connected to a place, a sight, a smell... and with all the changes in the world and in my life, I could still pinpoint being 8 years old and riding my bike through that exact same place. I've been running a lot on autopilot the past couple days to be honest. I haven't driven a car in 8 months, I haven't ridden a bike in years, nor have I ever really one of those fancy rode bikes with the thin frames and weird handlebars, I can't remember the last time I dove off a diving board. And yet, somewhere my brain has (thank God!) stored the ability to still do these things... and I can only wish I did them more often.

This is a picture I took while riding my brother's bike, and I find it very uniquely Kingwoodian. There's the river, the greenbelt, and the golf course in the background. Blue skies with a magnificent thunderstorm to come. And trees everywhere. What it can't capture is the sticky heat and the real humidity and the smell of the pine forest I rode through on the way to get there.



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