Butterflies

Butterflies.  Deep in the pit of her stomach.  Not overwhelming apprehension, just a mild case of the jitters.  Although Rowe has been riding a motorcycle for five years now, there are moments when anxiety strikes.  Such was the case this morning on her daily commute to work.  As she does every morning, she leisurely makes her way towards the freeway onramp.  Happy as can be, the air was crisp and cool.  On the freeway overpass, waiting for the light to turn green, she glances down at freeway conditions.  Freeflowing, perfect.  The light turns green.  Engine reverberating beneath her, Rowe quickly accelerates onto the freeway.  She manuevers her bike to the carpool lane and speeds at eighty-five miles per hour.

After not too long though, the brake lights from the cars ahead of her start blinking red, one after another.  Red...red...red.  "Oh great," Rowe moans, "not traffic!"  As she draws closer, though, she sees it isn't traffic, but an accident.  Two cars smashed up against the freeway median.  Rowe gulps and the butterflies begin, "What if I was there??  How would I react??  Would I be quick enough??"  Slowly passing the collision, she revs her engine and takes off.  A bit spooked, she only goes sixty mph at first.  Mile after mile, she returns to eight-five mph, the butterflies slowly dissipating...

Not having blogged in over three months, the butterflies now loom.  With each passing month, it just seemed harder and harder to make myself post anything.  Just when I was beginning to think my blogging days were over, my dear sister, Cristin, mentions the November Blog Fest.  One post a day.  A seemingly insurmountable task.  Butterflies loom, but the wheels haven't stopped spinning...