“There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.”
― Albert Einstein
#BiteSizeMemoir prompt from Lisa Reiter at Sharing the Story asked that we write about cycling this week. This brings up a lot of memories for me. Here are my 10 x 1 I remember.
I remember my training wheels coming off as my father held the back and ran beside me as excitement and fear co-mingled within; that was a good day.
I remember a banana seat, flowers, and the color pink.
I remember loving, when I was old enough, that I could ride by myself around the complex and down the little roads that wove between the German garden plots.
I remember closing my eyes as I pretended to fly on those roads, peddling slow and fast, feeling the freedom that I craved.
I remember meandering and dawdling not wanting to point my bike home.
I remember a tandem bike ride with my grandfather (my father’s father), of his smile (which didn’t happen often), and a Denny’s breakfast.
I remember a family bike ride, my sister falling, and her knees embedded with gravel; my stomach revolted when I discovered the doctor had to scrub the gravel out of her knees.
I remember putting my young daughter on my back as I rode my bike around town, enjoying each moment I had when it was just she and I.
I remember spending time teaching her how to ride her bike when that day came; five being the magical year of learning this new skill.
I remember how much I love riding and can’t wait to once again feel the breeze move through my hair as I fly down a road feeling free.
Now it’s your turn, what cycling memories do you have?
#BiteSizeMemoir by Lisa Reiter at Sharing the Story prompt this week is cycling. I am enjoying participating in Lisa’s lovely BiteSizeMemoir, I hope you decide to explore it for yourself. You never know what juicy tidbits you will remember, or be triggered, from her prompts.
Please visit Lisa Reiter’s blog and the other participants. Do you have a dress up story?
“Sometimes poets write what we wish we could say, and they tell us what we need to know. The poems in Wild Woman Waking lead us to a place where we can proudly refuse to be “bent and broken”; instead, they document a journey to self-acceptance, peace, and understanding – where in a community of women, we celebrate and dance as Mud Women. We become women of spirit and keepers of our own keys.” ~Beth Camp