Little Blue Bike

In an alley where rain trickled down the center drain, I often found myself walking, kicking at the puddles ahead of me. I would soon end up at the end of the road, only to turn and do it again. Our street curved around 2 city blocks, government housing on both sides, mostly single mothers and  a few families.
  All the kids seemed to get along- for the most part, it was our "hood", the projects of small town white America.  We had our drunks, our abusers, knife fights, brawls and secrets.
  Lots of secrets.
We also had neighbors and friends, close friends who would sit on the stoop together for morning coffee or dressed in pajamas after dark.
A family we were especially close to, had mostly sons, I grew up with them. We played kick ball, chase and even went dumpster diving together. One of the boys had a little blue bike. I was around 7or 8 at the time, before the divorce of my parents, I had a bike with training wheels,  I guess it got left behind because I found myself older than most and unable to ride a two wheeler
 That bike was just the right height to sit on and have both my feet firmly planted on the ground. I felt a sense of control on it, so I asked if I could borrow it.
Up and down that alley I went, trying to gain my balance.
All alone, yet determined.
At every fearful moment I dropped my feet to the ground and found myself steady once again.. I don't know how long it took but I finally made a trip down that drain to the other end.
  Gray skies and brick building surrounded me, the water was kicking up behind me now....
A smile on the face of a little blonde girl on a little boy's blue bike.
   Riding on her own.
I did a lot on my own.

When I taught my children to ride, the first thing I showed them was how to "catch" themselves. When fear hit, plant those feet on the ground.
I had them sit with feet upon the peddles and I would wiggle and shake the bike, then say "letting go", they would quickly stomp their feet down and smile at having caught themselves.
A defense against fear.
This gave them confidence and we soon set off down the block, with me pushing behind.  I let go and they went on.
When they came to the end of the sidewalk, the feet went down and they turned to tell me, only to see they had left me behind and had ridden by themselves. They had done it and the look on their face proved it, the same look I imaginge I had ....if only  someone had been there to see it.

That is what mom's and dad's do, they teach and equip, they stand by and if things get rough they are right behind,
watching and caring, at least that is where they should be.
I will never forget teaching my kids to ride bike.
 I will never forget the little blue bike.
I will never forget when I thought I was all alone, I really wasn't.
I may have had to learn on my own but God had my feet firmly planted on a rock that can't be moved and he had his hand on my back, in case I fell.
I feel as though I should kick a puddle to celebrate.



Photo Credit:juan23for