Ride the motorcycle of life

I stood on the corner with a bearded man, his face worn, but he was smiling. He has experienced many stages in his life, from the known to the unknown, and now lives on the street. But his joy at receiving a few hand warmers and a fresh blanket was apparent. I discovered he and I lived i n California simultaneously many years ago. And we’re the same age.

His face lit up, and despite the temperature outside, it transcended our hearts to a season of warm memories when we were both much younger.

He told me of his many motorcycle trips and the highways he rode. They were the same roads I traveled while living in California.