Romantic music filled my ears as I peddled along on my bike under the lamp lit streets tonight.
I was floating to the Pride and Prejudice soundtrack.
The wind blew my dress and long hair- which wrapped itself playfully around my neck, held only loosely to the side by a ponytail. I sat tall on my seat, with my shoulders back, and glided down the May warm streets.
It was stirringly movie like.
But oh blast, why do those clogs keep peeking out from under my dress?
And OH! Couldn’t I just for one moment let myself get big-headed, and think I look classy?
NO. There, strapped to my bicep, was my poke-a-dot iPhone held on with the ankle piece of an old legging.
“Almost like the real iPhone carriers, hey?” I’d chirped to Sam, my husband, as I adjusted the band around my rectangular phone.
He’d looked up from his texting “No…”, so truthfully blunt, “Not at all.”
Well it’s fine. I’m not a heroine from a movie. I’m Yvonne with her own quirks.
I’m a mom of 3.
Wife of one.
I had to yank off the baby seat attached to my bike before my ride.
And fight with multiple bikes and scooters under the bike shelter.
I wore leggings under my dress cause sitting lady like on a bike sounds… like something I need to study up on.
And I wear my clogs with all things.
And will. Even when I’m the star of a dreamy movie scene.