15 minutes left on the ride. You're 11 or 12 years old. You've just spent the better part of your Saturday outside with your friends; sports, the mall, the arcade, (for you 80s babies) going over to your friends houses, swimming in pools, and you were riding your bikes the whole time. You spent the whole day laughing. Or maybe it was playfully arguing why your team will win the Super Bowl this year, which teachers you want and don't want the following year and, most importantly, what you are doing tonight and tomorrow. It was fun, you loved it.

10 minutes left. Feel the wind in your hair and on your skin. You look around to see the faces of your friends, and you don't know it yet, but this is what joy feels like. Your adult self will wish they could go back to this moment and freeze it. The road is clear, and you're hurtling back forth, playing around with the distances and speeds between you and your friends. You intentionally swerve towards someone, then kick a leg out to someone else, you're free. Not consciously, but you feel it, and you'll remember that feeling. Freeze it.

5 minutes left. Race you home! The day is coming to an end. You're exhausted. And then you remember. Dinner will be on the table when you get home. What are we having tonight? Pizza? Meat and Rice? Who cares?! You're 11!! You're not counting calories, not worried about your cholesterol, and you're not wondering if doing a sober month starts tonight. After dinner maybe it's a movie with the family, or video games with your friends. Or how about solo time reading your favorite book and wondering what exploring the world will look like in the future; when you're older, when you're an adult, when you're out in the world. You ponder, you write in your journal. Your dreams are alive and burning as bright as the sun.

1 minute left. You say goodbye to your friends. The large group becomes smaller and smaller each block closer to your home you get. And then there were two of you. You and your best friend who lives on your street. One more joke, one more belly aching laugh, one more powerful yawp to the sky. See you tomorrow.

30 seconds. It's on! Full solo sprint down your street pedaling like a golden god. Can you beat your personal record? Your favorite song from the day has been playing on a loop in your head this whole time. Oh you remember THAT song. The one that immediately transports back to that street. (Jump by Van Halen anyone?)

Home. You pull into the driveway, put the bike around back, gate closed. You're home, you're safe and you're excited to see your family. (Remember you're not 13 yet, that's another blog) You're inside, you hug your parents, your siblings. Where's the dog? The cats? You're so excited. You start to talk about how awesome today was and what your plans are for the next day. "Mom, can I go over to Tommy's after practice tomorrow?" Oh the places you'll go.

And while you don't have a word for that time of day in your lexicon at that age, you'll come to discover later on in your life that it's called dusk. But it's more than just the time of day. It's the feeling of dusk that you remember. The 15 minutes after a long complete day of uncertainty and craziness, and right before you get home to the predictability of your home routine.

Photographers often call dusk the magic hour. They're on to something I tell ya.

I know what you're thinking. This wasn't the exact experience of your 11 or 12 year old self. Fair enough. So then tell me, it's just between us...What was it? I'm super curious...What were the 15 minutes during your day when you were 11 or 12 when you felt free? When you felt complete, when 15 minutes is all it took.

And if you don't remember yours, or didn't have one, you're always invited to jump on my pegs and take a bike ride at dusk with me. I go there often.

15 minutes left on the ride. You're 11 or 12 years old. You've just spent the better part of your Saturday outside with your friends; sports, the mall, the arcade, (for you 80s babies) going over to your friends houses, swimming in pools, and you were riding your bikes the whole time. You spent the whole day laughing. Or maybe it was playfully arguing why your team will win the Super Bowl this year, which teachers you want and don't want the following year and, most importantly, what you are doing tonight and tomorrow. It was fun, you loved it.

10 minutes left. Feel the wind in your hair and on your skin. You look around to see the faces of your friends, and you don't know it yet, but this is what joy feels like. Your adult self will wish they could go back to this moment and freeze it. The road is clear, and you're hurtling back forth, playing around with the distances and speeds between you and your friends. You intentionally swerve towards someone, then kick a leg out to someone else, you're free. Not consciously, but you feel it, and you'll remember that feeling. Freeze it.

5 minutes left. Race you home! The day is coming to an end. You're exhausted. And then you remember. Dinner will be on the table when you get home. What are we having tonight? Pizza? Meat and Rice? Who cares?! You're 11!! You're not counting calories, not worried about your cholesterol, and you're not wondering if doing a sober month starts tonight. After dinner maybe it's a movie with the family, or video games with your friends. Or how about solo time reading your favorite book and wondering what exploring the world will look like in the future; when you're older, when you're an adult, when you're out in the world. You ponder, you write in your journal. Your dreams are alive and burning as bright as the sun.

1 minute left. You say goodbye to your friends. The large group becomes smaller and smaller each block closer to your home you get. And then there were two of you. You and your best friend who lives on your street. One more joke, one more belly aching laugh, one more powerful yawp to the sky. See you tomorrow.

30 seconds. It's on! Full solo sprint down your street pedaling like a golden god. Can you beat your personal record? Your favorite song from the day has been playing on a loop in your head this whole time. Oh you remember THAT song. The one that immediately transports back to that street. (Jump by Van Halen anyone?)

Home. You pull into the driveway, put the bike around back, gate closed. You're home, you're safe and you're excited to see your family. (Remember you're not 13 yet, that's another blog) You're inside, you hug your parents, your siblings. Where's the dog? The cats? You're so excited. You start to talk about how awesome today was and what your plans are for the next day. "Mom, can I go over to Tommy's after practice tomorrow?" Oh the places you'll go.

And while you don't have a word for that time of day in your lexicon at that age, you'll come to discover later on in your life that it's called dusk. But it's more than just the time of day. It's the feeling of dusk that you remember. The 15 minutes after a long complete day of uncertainty and craziness, and right before you get home to the predictability of your home routine.

Photographers often call dusk the magic hour. They're on to something I tell ya.

I know what you're thinking. This wasn't the exact experience of your 11 or 12 year old self. Fair enough. So then tell me, it's just between us...What was it? I'm super curious...What were the 15 minutes during your day when you were 11 or 12 when you felt free? When you felt complete, when 15 minutes is all it took.

And if you don't remember yours, or didn't have one, you're always invited to jump on my pegs and take a bike ride at dusk with me. I go there often.