Summer Breeze

This morning, everything just clicked. Up early, I had time to make the coffee, eat my biscotti, pack my lunch, answer emails--all before 8 am. Wow! That never happens.

My youngest, Kiefer, said "Wanna come watch me ride my bike?" As I stepped outside, and watched him pedal off, I realized today was a perfect day. Clear blue skies, just a hint of fluffy white marshmallowy cloud, slight summer breeze, still-warm coffee in hand, ahhhh.

There's nothing like watching a kid ride a bike. It's just sheer joy. The boys both got their bikes for Christmas last year, a little late to learn how to ride (10 and 8), but they've got it now. Didn't take long at all, and they were riding like the wind.

To a young boy or girl, a bike means independence. I remember that feeling. Wind in your hair, going downhill not even having to pedal, off to explore the day...

Of course, the world is a different place for my kids now, different from the world when I was a kid. Back then, my brother and I rode our bikes all over the neighborhood...three or four streets over...and our parents thought nothing of it. We'd be gone all day, and as long as we were home for dinner, my mom wouldn't worry. We'd come barrelling in the front yard, throw our bikes down in a heap (never used kickstands, I don't know why), and run towards the smell of fried chicken wafting through the screen door. At dinner, dad would tell us about his day at work, and we'd tell him and mom about our day of adventures. Found a turtle, got beat at baseball by those new kids that moved in, fell and skinned my knee but it's okay now, Marc learned how to ride with no hands.

I remember the freedom our bikes gave us. We'd be up, dressed and out the door right after breakfast. We'd hop on our bikes and be off...over to the next street to play kickball or ride down the steep hill or down to the park at the end of our street to see if anyone was playing ball. We could check in with friends whenever we wanted, and knew which house was the "hot spot" by the number of bikes parked in the front yard.

Now, my boys have definite borders---"Stay between here and there" and "check in every ten minutes." I hate having to be so careful, and wish I didn't have to. The boys have helmets. They can't ride on the "big road." I can't help but be nostalgic when I feel a breeze like today. I can't help but wish the world of their childhood was as simple as the world of my childhood. Nostalgic and sad, but just for a minute. Then I see that little smile on my son's face, hear him yell, "Watch me, Mom!" and I smile too. The breeze picks up, and just for this moment, all is right in our world.


I want to ride my bicyle, I want to ride my bike.
I want to ride my bicycle, I want to ride it where I like.

Queen