The Bicyclist

He hoped to get there in time for breakfast. Dressing quickly, he added his cap with the earmuffs since the air was chilly now. His bike was in good order, and the miles fell away as he passed neighboring sheep and cows. After forty-five minutes, he reached the outskirts of the town. It was a little more difficult to thread his bike through the busy streets. But he kept on. Up ahead was his destination. After securing his bike in the parking area, he climbed the steps to the double glass doors.

“Good morning, Mr. Swinton!” exclaimed the lady at the desk, “How was your ride?”

“Can’t complain!” he responded a bit out of breath from his journey. He quickly made his way to the cafeteria. And there she was, his beautiful Phyllis. Her dark hair was pure white now. It hung in little waves about her wrinkled face. She looked up as he came near.

“Hello,” she murmured. “I’m not sure I like this food.”

“Oh, yes, you do!” he responded. It was always hard for him to get Phyllis to eat her breakfast. The server brought him a plate of scrambled eggs and toast. “See, I’ll take a bite, and then you take a bite.” She eyed him suspiciously.

“I’ll try,” she said as she took a small bite of the eggs with her fork. Finally, she finished chewing and looked at him again. “Do I know you?”

“Yes,” he said. “We have had breakfast together nearly every day for sixty years.”

“Well, that’s a long time,” she replied.

“Yes, it is,” he agreed, “And I have loved you every minute.” She looked at him, a bit confused. “Do I know that?”

“Yes, you do,” he placed his work-worn hand over her arthritic one and gave a little squeeze.

Later that day, he rode home. It was an hour’s ride. He went to milk Bonnie in the barn, then ate some cold ham and bread for dinner. After that, he sat quietly in his chair by the fire, reading. Occasionally, he looked over at the empty easy chair next to him. He wondered if Phyllis was having a good evening. He thought he would take his book tomorrow and read that part he thought she would enjoy.

Dozing off, he heard music swirling around him and found himself in the old college gym. Just off to the side was Phyllis, as he had first seen her, talking with a group of girls in a stunning white dress with her brown curls and wonderful smile. The smile that still lightened his day.

It had been a long eight years since she left the chair by his side, and he had begun his bike rides. Tomorrow would be another day, much the same. And that was just fine with him.