Abstract
On a foggy January morning, I hopped on my bicycle as usual and was quickly on my way to volunteer in a fifth-grade classroom across town at an elementary school in Turlock, California. I was headed back for the first day of school after returning from the winter break. I was in my happy place – wind blowing through my long blonde hair, legs spinning to my own rhythm – and I felt a sense of inner peace. I high-fived an older brother biking with his younger sister as they crossed traffic at a busy intersection, and I exchanged smiles with a mother walking her daughter to her kindergarten class.
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