That means that every bit of energy inside us, every particle, will go on to be a part of something else. Maybe live as a dragonfish, a microbe, maybe burn in a supernova ten billion years from now. And every part of us now was once a part of some other thing: a moon, a storm cloud, a mammoth. A monkey. A monkey. Thousands and thousands of other beautiful things that were just as terrified to die as we are. We gave them new life. A good one, I hope.
“Whoever decided ‘it’s like riding a bike’ should mean something
is easy was full of it,” Fitz calls nervously as he wobbles on the
third pass around the bike rental parking lot.
Jemma laughs as she swoops by, pedaling in smooth circles and
figure-eights around him. She knows she’s showing off, but maybe it’ll
prod Fitz to try a little harder. (That tactic works in all other areas
of their relationship. And she means
all other areas.)
“I presume whoever concocted that saying didn’t wreck his first bicycle trying to make it fly,” she teases.