Chasing the Moon
by Julie Weathers
The beacon of light before her seemed to point the way to the rising moon. Somewhere deep in her soul she imagined she might even catch that luminous, silver disk if she just kept riding long enough.
Might not catch it, but I'm damned sure going to try.
Marge chuckled softly. What would her kids think if she told them she spent all night long chasing the moon? They would probably want her to repeat it so they could record it and use it as proof she was incompetent.
Frank wouldn't, though. He was the one who helped her pick out the bike and taught her to ride it. He knew her heart while her other children only looked at her wrinkles.
A doe stepped out of the trees ahead of her, twitching those great ears and watching as she approached. Marge raised a finger in greeting. The doe flashed her tail and bounded back into the forest. She was wise to be cautious. Marge gave thanks she wasn't a deer. She had no desire to be careful or prudent or even sensible.
She smiled again as she thought about riding up to the senior center before she embarked on her little road trip. Gretta had fainted. Barbara shivered at the thought of bugs in her teeth.
Even Marge had to admit to herself that wasn't very appealing, It wasn't a concern anymore, though. She lost her teeth about forty miles back when she hit that bump.