Short Stop in Menifee
I kept my home in my divorce, but soon after found I hated living here. Memories of my times with my exx filled each room, memories of him screaming at me, insulting me, belittling me. I redecorated, rented out some of the rooms, but every time I walked through that front door, my stomach ached. It was a blessing to have David and Shelli move in here. Their boisterous family fills the house with laughter, love and life. It doesn't feel like my home at all anymore, so it truly feels like a visit when I come here.
Her boys, Zack and Josh, are firecrackers, exploding into laughter, screams, giggles and shouts over seemingly nothing. They don't enter a room, the burst in. They don't walk down the stairs, they tumble. Much like puppies, these boys wiggle and wag their tails, barking, yipping and growling. Their screams and giggles keep my heart happy and I love being here, at least for a little while.
Brianna, the boy's 13-year-old sister, is a statuesque beauty; strong, quiet, firm, confident, and graceful. She secretly runs the entire household, in her own monarch manner. With a glance and a few words, boys run in every direction. She doesn't need to be quick, to jump, to bark. With a gentle purr she gets what she wants.
Katie Scarlet spent a couple of days in the driveway in the rain alone. Blackbird took Highway to Phoenix for a conference for the weekend, so Katie weathered the storm by herself, waiting for sunshine. Saturday morning the sun broke through for just a bit and the boys gathered the neighborhood kids in the driveway to play. I stepped into the sunshine and amid the screams and shouts, saw my Katie waiting for me. Her tail seemed to wag as she shrugged off the drying raindrops and waited to take me for a ride. I was happy to oblige her.
We tooled around the neighborhood a little, practicing tight turns in the empty cul-de-sacs I know so well. Left turns still spook me a little after wrecking Highway's Yamaha Roadstar on a tricky left turn and breaking my wrist. Riding the Roadstar back home after the accident, broken wrist and all, was my last solo ride, before Katie. Katie has been patient with me, teaching me that I can trust her in the turns. I just need to look where I want her to go, be gentle with her throttle, feather her clutch, lean in and have faith. She wants to please me, to take care of me, to run like a pup off of the leash.
I rode these same cul-de-sacs on the Roadstar two summers ago. Like Brianna, the Roadstar had a grace and confidence that lured me into a sense of security. Although a much heavier bike, the Roadstar took the tight turns with such a smooth elegance, I felt no fear. I knew she had control, that I could rely on her. That's why I was so surprised when I hit the curb and landed in the iceplant, breaking my wrist.
While occasionally still spastic, Katie has taught me that it takes more finesse to get what I need from her. Her energy is too big for her little body and her ache to run fast makes it difficult to reign her in from time to time. She isn't nearly as patient as the Roadstar, who took her time to spool up, happy to wait to roar down the freeway. Katie seems on the edge, always, to burst out of the boring riding of cul-de-sacs and suburbia and race away to see the next place.
I loved the Roadstar, but we weren't a good fit. Katie Scarlet has stolen my heart.
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