20 Cyclists in Tight Formation
I was leaving the mountains where I had lived for more than 35 years and moving just down off the mountain to an old single-wide my brother was letting me live in until I “got on my feet.” My children both had jobs and were comfortably housed in separate cities, each with 1/3 of our collected possessions. I had already moved myself into the trailer, making many trips with my small blue Honda Fit loaded to the dome light. This was my last trip having that morning closed on the sale of my house for just about what I still owed on it. CitiBank had been very patient with me; they didn’t want the burden of selling the house. I don't always hear close coaching in my mind, in my voice. But this was a special occasion. As I drove one of my favorite routes from Asheville to Anderson—west across the mountains and then down—I was aware of the precarious place my life was in; I had forgiven everyone I could think of forgiving, my children were adequately launched, my financial debts were sati
