knows the guy, then it can’t be the road crew. She felt some of her hopes become dashed. Oh well , she thought. Even if it wasn’t the road crew, Katie was still anxious to hear news from what seemed like the outside world right now, regardless of the bearer.
Katie hurried to the front door with Micah, who had just woken up from her nap, waddling behind her. The little girl clung to her mother’s legs once they were on the front porch. Katie waited and watched as she attempted to focus her gaze on their visitor. She realized the noise wasn’t coming from what used to be their driveway entrance, but from the woods to the left of the house.
Usually Katie felt glad that they lived on so much land. The trees were often welcoming because they were her tribe, a source of friendship and comfort to her in the past. She wasn’t sure the same feeling would ever return, though. She wasn’t sure she could ever look at nature in the same way again. Nature had become dangerous. Those things that once made her thankful for her privacy, thankful for little critters that would often come to visit, thankful to not be in a cookie-cutter neighborhood or have to deal with association dues . . . these now seemed unimportant and made her wish for other human communication.
Katie made her way toward the sounds of a high-pitched throttle, and began to make out the vehicle. It was indeed a motorcycle, but it had different tires. Katie guessed this would be what her husband used to refer to as a “dirt bike.” She remembered him trying to explain the difference to her once after talking her into a visit to their local motorcycle shop. He tried to get her to change her mind about the dangerous “hooligan” machines because the neighbor had gotten it into his crazy head that he might enjoy having one of his own. It hadn’t worked on her.
It wasn’t that she was scared of the bikes themselves back then; it was all the other people on the road she worried about. From what Katie understood, it was rarely the motorcyclist’s fault when it came to their accidents, but that didn’t help her husband’s cause. It’s as if people just aren’t trained to see bikers on the road, and one little mistake is often deadly.
He never got to ride a motorcycle like he had wanted, and yet a motorcycle still caused his death. All the negative feelings began boiling inside of Katie once again.
This dirt bike was blue and white with the word “Yamaha” stuck on different parts of it. The man who was riding it had hopped off, unhooked his helmet, which matched his bike perfectly, and placed it over the handlebar. He also seemed to have some sort of brace on, over his chest and back. Katie wasn’t sure what this was, but figured it was some sort of protective gear, just like the high top boots with plastic buckles.
Blake, who had also come out to the porch, walked on over to him. “The two men greeted each other with a handshake that pulled into an embrace, and finished off with masculine pats on the back.”
It’s a hug, dudes, just embrace it as such , Katie wanted to say, but thought better of it. She didn’t know the guy or why he was here. She decided to play nice since he was some connection to the outside world. Perhaps he would know what time frame they were looking at for getting back to normal life. Well, as normal as it can be after everything that’s happened.
Blake stood there talking to the man, not even acknowledging Katie. She felt invisible. She didn’t attempt to make her way toward the men but simply watched. The grey clouds had begun to lift, there was a hopeful breeze in the air, and in this moment Katie felt quite content and comfortable on the sidelines. She saw the two men point over to where her house had once stood as they continued their conversation. Blake must be filling the man in on all the drama , she thought. Katie was surprised at the expression on the man’s face, which didn’t seem one bit surprised about the
Katie hurried to the front door with Micah, who had just woken up from her nap, waddling behind her. The little girl clung to her mother’s legs once they were on the front porch. Katie waited and watched as she attempted to focus her gaze on their visitor. She realized the noise wasn’t coming from what used to be their driveway entrance, but from the woods to the left of the house.
Usually Katie felt glad that they lived on so much land. The trees were often welcoming because they were her tribe, a source of friendship and comfort to her in the past. She wasn’t sure the same feeling would ever return, though. She wasn’t sure she could ever look at nature in the same way again. Nature had become dangerous. Those things that once made her thankful for her privacy, thankful for little critters that would often come to visit, thankful to not be in a cookie-cutter neighborhood or have to deal with association dues . . . these now seemed unimportant and made her wish for other human communication.
Katie made her way toward the sounds of a high-pitched throttle, and began to make out the vehicle. It was indeed a motorcycle, but it had different tires. Katie guessed this would be what her husband used to refer to as a “dirt bike.” She remembered him trying to explain the difference to her once after talking her into a visit to their local motorcycle shop. He tried to get her to change her mind about the dangerous “hooligan” machines because the neighbor had gotten it into his crazy head that he might enjoy having one of his own. It hadn’t worked on her.
It wasn’t that she was scared of the bikes themselves back then; it was all the other people on the road she worried about. From what Katie understood, it was rarely the motorcyclist’s fault when it came to their accidents, but that didn’t help her husband’s cause. It’s as if people just aren’t trained to see bikers on the road, and one little mistake is often deadly.
He never got to ride a motorcycle like he had wanted, and yet a motorcycle still caused his death. All the negative feelings began boiling inside of Katie once again.
This dirt bike was blue and white with the word “Yamaha” stuck on different parts of it. The man who was riding it had hopped off, unhooked his helmet, which matched his bike perfectly, and placed it over the handlebar. He also seemed to have some sort of brace on, over his chest and back. Katie wasn’t sure what this was, but figured it was some sort of protective gear, just like the high top boots with plastic buckles.
Blake, who had also come out to the porch, walked on over to him. “The two men greeted each other with a handshake that pulled into an embrace, and finished off with masculine pats on the back.”
It’s a hug, dudes, just embrace it as such , Katie wanted to say, but thought better of it. She didn’t know the guy or why he was here. She decided to play nice since he was some connection to the outside world. Perhaps he would know what time frame they were looking at for getting back to normal life. Well, as normal as it can be after everything that’s happened.
Blake stood there talking to the man, not even acknowledging Katie. She felt invisible. She didn’t attempt to make her way toward the men but simply watched. The grey clouds had begun to lift, there was a hopeful breeze in the air, and in this moment Katie felt quite content and comfortable on the sidelines. She saw the two men point over to where her house had once stood as they continued their conversation. Blake must be filling the man in on all the drama , she thought. Katie was surprised at the expression on the man’s face, which didn’t seem one bit surprised about the
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