I rode a motorcycle for the first time.
Although to be fair, I am pretty sure he sweet talked me with snow cones and french fries first.
I've been feeling a little weird today. Weirder than usual, if you can actually believe that. I debated whether or not I should even leave my room this morning. But I did, and that is how we ended up with this beautiful story.
We drove to Wal-Mart to pick up my 'brain bucket' so my insides weren't tempted to spill on my outsides in the event of a wreck. A very sweet old man told me I was
And I smiled.
Brady seemed to know something was up as we headed to the station. I don't know how to explain it, but today I have been in one of the strangest moods. I can't put my finger on what it is, but I feel...... off. And he knew.
After strapping me into my stylish new headgear, we were ready to go. Actually, HE was ready to go. I had to re-tie my scarf so I wouldn't lose it on our little adventure. I'm pretty sure I told him I wasn't nervous as I climbed onto the back of the motorcycle. I'm also pretty sure that was a lie.
Have you ever ridden a motorcycle before?
If so, you may understand the feeling of the warm wind against your face in the summer evening, caressing your cheeks like whispers. You understand the tears streaming from my eyes into my helmet, creating the illusion of my weeping, which was the complete opposite of how I felt. My mind was free to wander as need be, and surprisingly enough this was exactly what I needed. It was an amazingly freeing and wonderfully beautiful experience. The exhilaration I felt, flying through the canyon with one hand holding tight to my helmet, the other wrapped snugly around Brady cannot be accurately described in words. In short, it was simply lovely.
To complete the evening, we decided to head back down the canyon to grab a few things for a night of marshmallow roasting. Oh, and Brady could not resist purchasing a few of those wooden snakes...
We returned to the canyon, this time accompanied by Mr. Allred, and I informed him that I would waste him in a roasting competition. Which I did, thank you very much.
(Daddy didn't teach me how to toast the perfect marshmallow for nothing, you know.
Boys dig girls who can make a good mallow.)
And then we left the park, ourselves a little more marshmallow-y than before.
It was a beautiful night.
And just what I needed.
I'm so glad I decided to get out of bed this morning.