crossing milvia, my rusty back tire and chain flew from my bike, and the frame and i sprawled onto the sidewalk. bike explosion on the way to work is no fun, especially as the fog rolls in and the night comes on and you still have a few miles to go. kevin, a waiter from the restaurant in front of which i attempted to collect and assemble my bike parts, came out to help and offered me napkins for my oil-darkened hands and knees, along with directions to a bike shop if our repairs didn't do the trick. they didn't, and i headed off on foot to find the place. i asked a couple on shattuck if they knew of it, but they were from out fo town. they suggested i ask at the drugstore and watched my bike for me while i was inside. when i emerged, they offered some advice that seemed to work and went on their way. once again, however, the tire flew free. this time, a group of italian exchange students helped poke and prod at the offending machinery. and this time we got it. i remembered the names of canna lilies on the way home under the bright full moon.
all week, i've been needing someone to tell me that everything is going to be alright, that i'm okay. and i've been waiting to hear it from friends or family, but then three sets of strangers reminded me without saying much at all and nothing explicitly. this morning, i woke at six to feed the chickens and the cats and be home by seven to feed ann. there is fresh bread that the baker gave me for free at the market, there is leftover cucmber soup, there are white irises on the table, i have a clean dress to wear. i'm here. i feel alright today, i'm okay.
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