It seems like just yesterday that we were tearing through the vibrant city streets on your rusty mountain bike. We were on a quest of sorts; adventurers set out to map the unknown world, trying to discover all the experiences that life has to offer. We had no destination, no limitations, and no expectations to live up to. I sat on the seat of the bike with my arms wrapped tightly around you as you muscled the pedals. The seat was terribly uncomfortable, and you were constantly struggling to keep us steady and moving, but I wouldn’t change anything about those moments on that bike. As my giggles flew away with the wind, I felt alive and free and a little bit dangerous. The closeness of you setting every nerve-ending in my body on fire mixed with the bustle of the city and the sun sparkling in my eyes made it so easy to forget. Everything that had been pushing me down fell behind me, and for the first time in a long time, hope encompassed my soul. The whole experience was all sorts of poetic and nostalgic, and the whole time it was happening, the fact that it was going to end loomed in the corner of my mind. It was one of those moments you want to capture and tuck away so that it is forever tangible. It was one of those moments that promises new beginnings. It was one of those moments that stains your soul and muddles your vision and makes you realize that life is so much more than your everyday routines. That day on that bike with you and the wind and the sun was, and still is, the most raw form of perfection in existence.