Sunday was unseasonably warm. We’d been out of town and came home to a stack of newspapers on the driveway and holiday swag still hanging from the porch lights looking decidedly less holiday than they should in the early spring sun.
“Want to go for a bike ride?” Colin said.
We had bags to unpack. I didn’t know what we’d fix for dinner or when I’d shop for groceries. We had work and school and the week ahead to prepare for. We needed to take the Christmas decorations down before the neighbors chased us out of town with pitchforks.
Of course I wanted to go for a bike ride.
I said something to Colin about changing from his shorts and short-sleeved t-shirt into something warmer and he looked at me like I was drunk, so I dropped the subject. So what if the kid wouldn’t be able to feel his arms after 10 minutes? It was still early February, but he’s young. He’d bounce back.