The journey down
We regrouped at the top of the steep hill. Our reward for reaching the summit: the journey down. But it wouldn’t be easy. There were dinosaurs.
Over the edge we went. Pedals whirling until they spun too fast for our feet. “They’re coming!!!!!!!”
And, of course, it was always the biggest and mightiest who was on our heels. His teeth razors, his jaws bloodied from his last kill, his claws snapping at our back wheels. “T- Reeeeeeexxx.”
And we hoped and wished and prayed the height of the hill and the speed we’d built up and the strength in our legs as we picked up our pedals would somehow be enough to outrun him.
Sanctuary was arriving at Edward’s house. Scarlet-faced. Lungs burning. Legs jelly. Exhilarated. We rejoiced in our victory. I recall so clearly my seven-year-old self flying down that hill. The joy of speed, freedom – and of imagination.
The memory map project took me back to the golden years of my childhood. We lived there when I was between five and ten.
My map shows my world, where I had free run. A flat Earth. You fell off the edge if you went beyond ‘The Cul-de-Sac’. Unless you went in a car. (Ours was a metallic, bottle-green Nissan Sunny).
I wanted to share a moment of pure pleasure – riding my bike really fast down a really steep hill. At that age I had a capacity for living in the moment that a dozen mindfulness apps can’t recreate now.