I truly think one of the best days of my life
was the day I got my first bike.
My Nana and Baba had just driven
eight hours from Chicago and,
instead of taking luggage
out of their car trunk,
Baba pulled out a baby blue bike
with a flowered basket on the front.
I still get a lump in my throat
when I think about it,
remembering the sudden
sense of freedom and independence
that wonderful gift gave me.
It was like learning to fly.
Those feelings came rushing back today,
as my four year old picked out
his very first bike (and a helmet, to boot!).
Once he climbed on that thing,
there was no stopping him
and nothing was going to wipe
that grin off his face.
Fly, little man, fly!
It was a beautiful thing to witness.