There are no letters in the mail box. Not a single one from a friend or family member from the past or from the current day. There are no voice messages except from the occasional bill collector that has bought my outstanding credit card debt. There are no emails except from one or two vendors I still try to pay to help me with an occasional lingering idea for a web based business. There are no invitations for barbeques, sporting events, dinners, award ceremonies, children’s birthdays, social events, dances, cruises, family holiday gatherings, christenings, graduations, or even the occasional funeral. There are however, the occasional chirping of crickets, like a chorus from heaven outside my window or streaming in from the soundtrack behind a Netflix classic movie, or from inside my apartment.
Crickets chirp to remind that, somewhere in the night, a possibility may exist; the possibility for a connection to something greater than that which is devoid of relationship, that which has become my personal comfortable state of confusion. Crickets are a welcome joy, better than the voices that come to conspire against me, to defeat the dreams of a younger day. I know what to do. I know how to change my future, but I haven’t accepted the future that has been presented. It plays over and over in my head every day. It involves, one might say, more crickets.
Anyway, I had another “coincidence” happen today. A thought I had about the future came true again. Often, I’ll call it a force, hard to put into words, a strange knowing, strikes a chord of premonition within me I trust. I’ve lived a lifetime full. I felt the future, as I placed the lock around the bicycle frame, through the tire and anchored it to the steel bicycle stand. I felt the presence of the knowing as I walked away from the bike.
I locked it in front of the public bathrooms at the park. I even stayed close by and ran along the path with the other joggers, and cyclists and skateboarders. I lingered for much more than an hour, always remaining closes enough to detect anyone preparing to confiscate my transportation. But I returned to find someone had stolen my bike. I knew someone would take it. I knew it would be gone even after I felt it was safe enough to venture away far enough, out of sight of the bike. I ran along the path, and once I was around the curve and over the bridge, I enjoyed the rest of the 3.5K path, and the sun, and the people. Upon returning to a location along the other side of the park where the curve met the path again to complete the circuit, putting the bicycle rack close enough into sight, the bike was gone. I couldn’t help but laugh. Crickets!