The reminder

The other night, I dragged B to a meeting on the state of cycling in One Great City!'s downtown and ways to improve the situation. If you have ever ridden a bike here, you will know that the smallest change in policy or infrastructure would symbolise a big bear hug of acceptance in this otherwise hostile environment. We sat around a table with two huge maps and discussed away. As meetings go, it was a gooder.

There was a man there who reminded me of someone. It took me a few minutes to figure out who that was. This happens a lot. When it doesn't come to me right away, I try to focus on what part of the person it is exactly that is doing the reminding. With this man, who really looked nothing like anyone I knew, it was his mouth and the way he talked - he had a sweet voice and a small bit of a lisp and his nose turned up just a little. Once I had that I figured it out right away: it was an old friend who had died earlier this year. We were close in high school, but we drifted apart after that. It was so nice to be reminded of him.

Incidentally, he loved to ride his bike and the last time I saw him, which was about two and-a-half years ago, we went for a bike ride together.