Aqueduct


After our late night ride home on Saturday night we all seemed to sleep a little heavy. I awoke to that feeling of it being a Sunday morning. It felt slow, lazy and relaxed and I was content to sit in a sunbeam in the front room until the rest of the crew was ready to take on the day.

We all know I love hanging out with friends and I could busy myself nightly but there’s part of me, in this season, soaking up the goodness of being alone. Lucky for me I’m still new so I’m not missing out on much just yet!

Shortly after lunch we all took, once again, to our bikes to set out to a little village nearby. The winds were heavy along the road and make it feel almost impossible to pedal, not helped by the fact that I didn’t realize my tires were a little flat until after we’d set off… but it couldn’t be helped at this point. We passed the vineyard we often frequent after work and carried on along the road until we finally hung a left and on my right was a castle, the kind you see in a children’s storybook. We didn’t stop but rather kept on past and over the bridge taking a right toward the Aqueduct. On the side of the road were a few cars and a path. We cycled along the path, beyond the olive grove and locked up on a sign with the arches to our right. For some reason I thought it would be more grand, but it wasn’t. The structure was heavily in ruin and there was something very humble about it. Beyond the arches was the hill where we sat in silence overlooking the valley with the warm sun kissing our skin for the second day in a row. When I could sit still no longer I stood up to climb the slippery rock and carefully plotted my steps to the top, holding tightly so as not to be thrown off by the winds all to see the 360 view from the top.

I let the group go on without me.

Those two hours alone the week before reminded me how much I crave quiet and space so I lingered a little longer, enjoyed the fresh air. After they’d all taken off and were out of sight I continued on the road up a steep winding hill in search of the Moulin. As it turns out I turned around only a bend in the road away but still, I was happy. I walked around at the top for a moment and watched as women were gathering wild herbs growing out on the hills and it felt like a little piece of my foraging dream knowing one day that’ll be me.

I returned to my bike and started down the hill, letting gravity pull me down and tossing my hair in the wind, singing loudly and confidently as the few cars passed me thankful for this season of life that I’m free and I don’t care if anyone hears me. At the bottom I offered prayers the remainder of the ride home just being thankful for everything.

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