9:26 and home.

The weather report promised us a sunny Sunday.

For the first time since moving to Japan, I went out for an early morning bike ride. Maybe it's a sign that I'm happier, that I have the energy to turn thoughts into action, but this time my intentions didn't turn to dust with the rising sun. Thanks Twilight.

No people no cars. Just me. 

I got up, got dressed, said bye to my awake kids and sleeping wife and took off into the more-quiet-than-usual streets of Japan. The sun was out, my bike felt good and I was on my way. All the way.

Somewhere.

I've adapted. I've struggled adapting. And unadapted. Blah blah blah.
I focus on getting sidetracked. I ignore signs that say dead end. I see for myself.
I don't carry a map. Not that I want to get lost. Or not find what I'm looking for.

I've curbed my enthusiasm. And I'm happier.

I could be staring down at my bike or letting my eyes wander along the horizon where the blue sky meets the earth. It's time passing me by. Constantly even and even promising.
I'm pedaling, sweating, wheezing, singing, dreaming, smiling, struggling, sniffling. Anyways.

Not that any of this means anything. Or significant. Or insignificant.
Boys will be boys, girls will be girls and seasons pass with or without acknowledgment.

For now, I do what I want to do. Without direction or intentions. The sun is still out.