On Sunday in the late afternoon, we decided to bike up to the Loop with the kids in the bike trailer. It was a beautiful, windy day. We bought a kite and biked to a park just west of the loop. We flew the kite, ran around and had a picnic. It was one of those moments when you know it is wonderful at the time. I kept hearing that song ("Let's go fly a kite up where the air is bright"- or something like that) in my head. As we were having a picnic, I noticed some very dark clouds coming our way fairly quickly.
M: Peter, we need to go home. It is going to pour!
P: Relax. We have plenty of time.
P: So we might get a little wet. No big deal.
M: I'm going.
We start riding home pretty quickly. We stop to pick something up at a friend's house in the neighborhood. Peter starts yelling at me to come quick because it is lighting and thundering. We start hauling it home. I usually ride in fear of hitting a curb and wiping out. I rode like a 12 year boy with no fear of wiping out. My fear of dying was greater. We were flying home. The kids were bouncing around in the trailer behind Peter. We were yelling, "GO, GO" as the tornado sirens started to go off. At that moment, the song in my head changed. "Let's go fly a kite and die." I don't think getting struck by lighting is the way I want to go out. We made it to the house and grabbed the kids out just as it started to rain. It poured on Peter as he took the bikes around the house.
Seeing as we didn't die or kill our kids, it was pretty fun. I liked riding like the wind and hope to do a little more of that. The best part of the story is that after Peter came in the house he said, "Melanie, You were right. We should have started home sooner. I should have listened to you." (Somebody please frame that for me for Christmas.)