Arrivee

So this arrived in the mail.

Its arrival wasn't a surprise. Not when my Facebook friends who also rode PBP were posting pictures of their manilla envelopes and its contents soon after delivery. But still. I had that little doubt - that little "what if ..." and "when ..." - that only went away when I finally saw the envelope, saw the stamps from France and felt the heft of the newly delivered package.

The surprise came when I opened the envelope. Opening the brevet card that I carried from Paris to Brest to Paris released an unexpected flood of memories. Memories of walking into controls at all hours of the day and night. Memories of joy, uncertainty, frustration, determination, desperation, exultation. During the ride, my only thought about this card, this little booklet, was DO NOT LOSE IT. No matter what, no matter where, this is your proof of passage. Keep it safe.

Now, opening the booklet months later, long after mission accomplished, I take the time to see its stamps for the first time. Each one is unique. Together they create a passport of a  memorable journey in France. I leaf through the book, watch the video, and polish the medal with my breath and sleeve. For a moment, I relive the dream that was PBP. The package, and it contents, eventually go onto a bookshelf. Perhaps they will go into a frame then again, perhaps not. For now, I look at the trinkets. I remember. 

I plan. 

There's always another ride.