On endings and beginnings

It's the last day of our two week bike tour down the coast of Oregon. Our first bike tour. Krista (my amazing sister) and I have logged more than 500 miles together on this journey.

Our last campsite is amongst huge trees with moss covered roots and surrounded by blackberry bushes. These bushes were likely bursting with ripe, sweet berries a short while ago. Just like the ones that we encountered at our first campsite. Now, they have been picked clean by campers and birds alike, so the remaining ripe berries are left out of our reach behind sharp thorns.

Setting up our last camp - photo by Krista Speigner

The afternoon light fades to early evening, and I am walking to our picnic table as Michael, Karina and Maria (their almost one year-old) roll back into camp after a quick grocery run. We met a few days ago and were delighted to see them again, here, at our last stop on the road.

Michael grins broadly at me from his perch on their distinctive tandem bicycle. He pulls out a plastic container of a dozen, tiny, chocolate, frosted cupcakes with rainbow sprinkles. I recall that Maria's 1st birthday is this upcoming weekend and imagine these are to celebrate her.

I am mistaken. They are for me and Krista! To celebrate the success of our first tour.

We gather at our picnic table. Krista and I have known each other for most of my lifetime and all of hers. Surrounding us are people who we have just met. In such a short time - hours, days, weeks - they have become woven into our journey and lives.

Our fingers become smudged with chocolate frosting. Smiling we offer cheers and share stories until the light grows dim. I am left reeling in the warmth and magic of newly formed friendship.

Sweet, unexpected, celebratory cupcakes - photo by Krista Speigner