I always take this bend in the road very carefully. The dirty plastic wrappers flap from the new replacement lamppost like flags at a Grand Prix: slowly, slowly, as if cautioned by frantic race marshals. The eyes, peering from the fading photograph, follow me as I pass. Every time I see this roadside memorial, grief briefly sits next to me. A passing moment of empathy with the unknown flower arranger. Then I accelerate away and forget about it until the next time, when I will again ease off the gas and feel that cloak of sadness wrap itself around me.
John Holmes is a U.K.-based writer who still likes to play out on his bikes. Find John at Johnholmeswriter.com.