I was in my own head, not enjoying my bike ride, head down forgetting to look up. Forgetting about wonder. Grief forced me to look up. There's a certain magic in those first few weeks as you see the world you always see, but it looks so differently than it did before. So when that man (or was he a boy?) wanted to punch me, wanted to take his anger out on me in that split moment, I accepted it. But I also didn't believe he would. But if he did, he had a right to. Not me specifically, but people like me. White, entitled. That's all. He has been disadvantaged since day 1, since before day 1. Since the beginning. But he didn't. Maybe because of something I did, or didn't do. I didn't even flinch. I was behaving like a forgiving human being. Or maybe he didn't because he didn't want to, really. I wonder if he hit the next person on the path.
