As the days go on, it gets more and more difficult to remember things about Dylan that I have not already shared. The memories and pictures are finite, while the emotions and feelings are endless.

My day was made today. Not because I had to drive down to San Diego to work on a Sunday, but because a memory occurred to me as I drove between Dana Point and San Clemente. We went camping at Doheny State Beach a few times. We loved the spots that are on the beach. Unfortunately, the waves there are always terrible. That lead us down to the coast a few miles to the San Clemente pier. I loved it there. The water was nice, and waves were usually pretty good there. With pier right there, a bucket of clams was always an available option for Dylan and I.

We started taking our bikes when we were camping, depending on how well they were working at that time. This usually led to at least one adventure with me in the lead, never letting Dylan or Marisa know exactly where we were going. On one camping trip to Doheny, Dylan and I got up before everybody else and jumped on our bikes and started riding. I don’t remember how old he was, but little did he know, and I for that matter, where or how far we were going. This is how these adventures usually began. With no plan whatsoever. As we kept riding alongside PCH on the bike path, the goal became clear. It involved some pretty steep hills in San Clemente, but we made it to the pier in San Clemente. We walked out to the end of the pier with our bikes, and briefly enjoyed our accomplishment. Unfortunately, we knew what awaited us on our ride back. That easy glide down the steep hill to the pier was going to be the most difficult part of not only our return back to the campground, but the entire ride. It took effort and some pushing to keep Dylan moving, but he did it. As the top of the hill flattened out and we began to catch our breathe, I stopped at a corner donut shop. We locked up the bikes and entered the shop for our reward. Dylan and I sat in the outside patio area and watched people and cars go by as we ate too many donuts and drank too much chocolate milk. We probably spent about half an hour there talking and changing our calorie deficient into a calorie overload. I knew we were going to be in trouble when we got back to the campground. Our adventure was taking up a bit more time than was meant. That’s the way it went sometimes.

We jumped on our bikes and enjoyed a downhill cruise before hitting the slight incline along PCH back toward the campground. We no sooner got down the hill in San Clemente and started having to pedal along PCH, when Dylan began complaining about stomach pains. Hey, it seemed like a good idea at the time. It appeared the donuts and milk and bumps along the ride had taken their tole on Dylan. I think I had to push him harder to get back to the campground than I did to get him up the hill from the pier. But he made it. We made it. I really wasn’t sure he would ever be up to something like that again. However, the next time an early morning bike ride came up in Doheny, Dylan was with me. And during that ride, he kept asking me if we were going to stop at the donut shop again. I had to oblige. As we went into the donut shop, I said, “We probably shouldn’t eat too many of these this time.” To which he said, “Yeah, I know.” He left half of his second donut in the shop trash can having learned his lesson from the last time. I have loved those experiences with both of my children.