Oh how I coveted that red bike in the window. Shiny silver spokes, the rubber hairs still on the tires. I wondered how it got there, to this particular shop window, with that particular sticker wrapped onto the left handlebar. My own art looked own at me from the metal there, a sticker I’d printed years ago when my work as a designer had just begun and my only jobs were passion projects of my own. On my favorite-colored bike, in the window of the thrift shop down the block, at the start of spring when new hope is in the freshened air and the smell of warming soil pulls us out from our homes and offices onto paths and trails and park greens. Some things might be meant to be, if only for the joy of it all.

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