Skunk Butt
Skunk Butt
I left home on my bike in the dark yesterday morning, knowing that I was likely to miss the commuter train I usually take because, well, I had diddled and dawdled for too long before heading out the door. Conditions were cool, breezy and dank, the kind you get before an all-day fall drizzle sets in. I pedaled along at a good pace, still hoping to get to the train station on time, when I saw it in my bike’s headlight barely twenty feet in front of me……a skunk’s butt, tail held high, as black as the pavement and the night. No cars were coming up behind me, so I quickly veered from the shoulder onto the road across the rumble strip and accelerated past my little friend. Crossing the rumble strip is not a biker-friendly experience, but better that discomfort than getting sprayed by Pepe Le Pew I suppose.
I arrived at the train station in time to see the train pull away without me. I will admit to cursing the half hour wait I would have to endure. As I stood there, though, it dawned on me how lucky I was to be able to easily bike 5 miles to and from the train station nearly every day, to experience the world more closely than if I had traveled by car, to just feel more alive. Some days start with lovely sunrises and birdsong. On other days it’s dark, dank and a skunk’s butt at 10 paces. Life after WLS is like that, a study in greater, more frequent contrasts through most aspects of a better, healthier life.
RP
