There have been deeply meaningful moments here in Germany I cannot put into words. This trip is not for me, I say, it is for my mother. Yet, amid the daily schedule, the endless visitng, the bread and potatoes, I carve out places for myself and this journey becomes almost mine.
Then, this morning, the invitation. The retired police officer (related to me in some manner) suggested we go for a ride on his motorbike. Harley Davidson? I think not. BMW, if you please.
And so, with helmet like an astronaut, I am riding on the back of a cold wind and I cannot feel it. There are waves of simmering yellow flowers, green fields against blue. There are mountains of clouds. There are sheep on the dike, the steel grey of the sea and we follow its edge. We follow its edge. It is cold and I cannot feel it. It is windy and I open my mouth to taste it. The bowl of my body finds its longed-for balance and leans easily, so easily into the curves of the road. At speeds beyond normal, I relax.
This trip is not for me, I say . But for 50 minutes in the sun and great wind, where land meets the sea, freedom found me at last.