Familiar

I do the same exact yoga practice every day, eat the identical breakfast each morning, and haven’t really changed my haircut in twenty years, so it’s kind of odd I’d recoil even a little bit from the possibility of cycling over paths I’ve been on before to a location I’ve gone to within the last 12 months, but that’s how I was—for a second, at first—as the ride lumbered forth from Westlake heading generally westward under pastel skies, smudged pink, then fuchsia, in the slowly gathering dusk.

Because after all, there’s something so comforting about well-trodden paths and re-experienced experiences: Kyleen crashing, Sketchy drinking, Ben getting another flat and grouching around as the peanut gallery kibitzes his roadside repair skills; when I’m on my deathbed looking back upon my life, I’m sure all the times I’ve seen these happen will blend a single fond memory encompassing every one.

And, of course, I should talk: nor was this the first (and probably not the last, either) time yours truly ate the whole cookie and spent far too much of the evening wandering about, alternately finding, then losing, then finding again his bicycle, even though it remained in the same spot all along.

Besides, there are nuances which make every instant, even of the same thing, unique: for example, I don’t think I’ve ever seen that old chestnut of leaving the full beer can in the fire to explode have the can explode twice, and as far as I know, this could be the first time mass departure from Carkeek didn’t result in at least one major mechanical or memorable road rash.

The pre-Socratic philosopher Heraclitus famously claimed “You can’t step into the same river twice,” reminding us that the universe and everything in it is in a constant state of flux: all is change, and even if we’ve been there before, it’s totally different every time.

Except the crashing, drinking, and grouching; that’s just the same.