A Little Bikeride

It was lovely Sunday afternoon.  A perfect day for the message in a bottle to take a ride on a cute pink bike with a delightful wicker basket.

Several, yes several, hours were spent the day before writing that message in the bottle. Everything that ever wanted to be said but couldn’t, wouldn’t, shouldn’t. Everything.

Songs played on repeat and years of moments replayed. Stop your judgement. A girl isn’t responsible for the emotional gluttony that happens while Aunt Flow is in town. Ok, she is a little responsible, but the blame falls heavily on the hormones and the ninjas that attack her uterus.

The message gets set on fire, and a wind blows and there were ashes every where. Inside the itsy bitsy beach apartment, and outside. Ashes. Everywhere. Clumsy girl.

Most of the message gets burned, with the exception of a page of song lyrics. Damn you, Aunt Flow!

Catsup remained around the rim of the bottle as the letters’ ashes and little seashells got carelessly shoved in the bottle. 

The message in a bottle was placed carefully in the delightful wicker basket on the cute pink bike and pedaled to the favorite little beach.

The sky was grey – which seemed appropriate. This is the day. The day it all got Let Go. 

The message in the bottle in the delightful wicker basket on the cute pink bike was met by wedding on the favorite little beach.Overly ironic. Even for an overly dramatic clumsy girl.

You’ve. Got. To. Be. Flipping. Kidding. Me. 

A quick loop around the parking lot. This is not the place for the Let Go. 

Clumsy girl pedals to next little beach – the water is crystal clear and still.

You’ve. Got. To. Be. Flipping. Kidding. Me.  Crystal clear and still water?

When the moment of Let Go happens in the overly dramatic clumsy girl mind… there is a storm, and thunder, and lightening, and rain, and waves, and everything that was happening internally is manifested in the surrounding environment.

So clumsy girl does what any dignified grown woman does. She lays in the sand and has a temper tantrum. Full on legs kicking, arms flailing, sand going everywhere-ing temper tantrum. She is now completely covered in sand and makes her way into the still water to get the sand out of everywhere.

The message in the bottle is placed back in the delightful wicker basket on the cute pink bike.

Clumsy girl is on a mission to have a (now conjured) cathartic moment.

She pedals to a crowded beach, parks her cute pink bike on a hidden pathway. Takes her catsup encrusted message in a bottle to the beach, where it, and it’s contents, and what they represent, will float into eternity.

Not wanting to leave her phone in the delightful wicker basket, she hands it to two strangers “to hold onto for a moment”. Because some how, that made more sense.

Throwing the message in the bottle into the water? Oh, No! That won’t do. Clumsy girl must swim. Swim farther than she has ever swam before. Out past the buoys. So she swam. And stopped. And swam. And stopped. And swam and swam and Good Lord Jesus those buoys are out far!

Clumsy girl and the message in the bottle reached the buoy.

After a moment of breathing it got thrown far far into eternity. A whole three feet past the buoy. 

Oh, No! This will not do! What if the message reaches the shore before clumsy girl and this haunts her the rest of her days? She feverishly swam. And stopped. And swam. And stopped. And swam and swam and Good Lord Jesus those buoys are out far! Clumsy girl reached a boy wearing the snorkeling mask.

“Are you the white girl who gave her phone to two black girls.” 

“Yes, that’s me”

“They leaving”

“Ok, I’m on my way”

Other voices chimed in, making clumsy girl slightly realize that she may have been a spectacle.

“Miss, did you drown?”

“No, I just had to do something I never did before”

“You looked like you drown.”

“Nope!”

Clumsy girl swims past the other voices and questions to reach the shore, the two girls, and her phone.

“We were gonna call your daddy!”

“Really, and what would you have said?” 

They all laugh.

“Thanks for holding my phone.”

Looking down she realizes that she has no idea how long she had been swimming.

She walks the hidden path to find her cute pink bike and goes to place her phone in the delightful wicker basket.

It rings.

“Honey –  are you trying to reach me, is everything ok?”

“No, Daddy – everything’s good, just taking a little bike ride.”

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