My Ghost

There's a ghost in my machine.

I'm not sure if anyone else is experiencing this on Facebook, but it's really unnerving and a bit too uncanny to think about it as an accident.

4 summers ago, I was a carefree, budding rockstar on my motorcycle.

I had my first motorcycle and I rode in it in the Dykes on Bikes segment of the 2008 parade.

The delight I felt I can't even express.

I'd wanted a motorcycle all my life, since I first saw my uncle with his Norton.  The first day he had it, he brought it by to show us.  My dad asked if he could try it, and within seconds, my father had driven it right into our fence and knocked it down.

That was the moment I wanted one.  Strange omen.

Every single person I was partnered with was dead against me having one.

Then finally.  Finally!  I met the person who would help me learn to ride and I got my first bike.  Thank you Papi.  You were the first person to allow me that freedom.

When I'd come out to start her up on the morning, her lines looked like a great smile greeting me.  I would greet her back, "Hellllloooooo my pretty!!!!  Ready for a ride?!?!?!?!"

The indulgence I felt!  It was amazing!  I was never a hellion, because riding fast meant that you got from point A to point B too quickly, and the ride would be over.

I would just take my time and enjoy every little wind gust that would reach through my helmet to my hair.

I envisioned myself with long hair, and even though I didn't have any, I could still imagine it singing, 'thwack thwack thwack' on the sides of my half helmet.

I would smile the smile of a Cheshire Cat the whole time I was in motion.  People probably thought I was a bit on the demented side, but I knew life had finally come to a place where I got what I wanted.

That ride in the 2008 Pride Parade was like it was meant for me.  I felt pretty, sexy and strong!

A girl and her bike.

The day of the parade, my love took my picture.  There, in living colour you could see my joy as I proudly posed on my new best friend who was everything to me, other than the sexy soul behind the camera.

My bike and I were one.

I had that picture on Facebook for quite some time.  The satisfaction was just too strong for me to take that pic down.

Flash forward to the past few weeks, four years later.

Someway, somehow, that Facebook pic from 2008 seems to keep appearing on my Facebook wall, without anybody changing it.  It started out when I'd log in on my phone, and now, it's on my computer.  I've had MANY pictures to replace that one since that summer, but someway, somehow, this single picture keeps appearing.

Then she's gone and I see myself with my gun again.

She's a ghost.

The girl in that photo isn't the same.  She can't rock out on stage anymore.  She can't work a full time job anymore.  Christ!  Some days she can't even pick up the chihuahua!

Then there's the spirit of my bike.

I've never even seen the wreckage she became.  I was asked to look a few times and I couldn't.  Even know, just thinking of the crumpled mass of steel she became breaks my heart.

So, why?

Why does this picture keep haunting me?

Maybe it's time to let her go.  Maybe I need to find some love for her.

Maybe this tear that is falling right now is because there's another level of healing to do, no?  My Living Day Anniversary is coming up in 6 days and I need to find more acceptance.

Or, perhaps it's time to honour her.

The girl I was has to be blessed and the woman I am now has to be admired.

My Ghost.

all false images of myself from the past are now dissolved