Wheels Up

I love this time of year. Green things rising up from the wet soil. That light and liberated feeling you get in your clothes. Coats and sweaters a distant memory. Feeling more ambitious with the long daylight.

While Naomi was at the playground for a friend's birthday McKibbin and I took my new bike (I've christened her Lulu) out for a spin. McKibbin always leads in the tall grass. Sunlight dappled across our path. The ride had an upward feel. Like I was skimming above the surface rather than bound to it.



We looped out and around, then back to the playground. The birthday party was wrapping up. Balloons and streamers. Cake frosting on my kid's cheeks. Makenna's mom with a garbage bag of wrapping paper and plates. Naomi looked up from a gaggle of her friends to see us. Her face a mix of disappointment that we were back, and envy for the hour we spent on two-wheels.

She clutched her friend in a big, big hug. Happy Birthday, she said, thanks for inviting me.

Rushed over to the bike rack, gave one last wave to her peeps, and pulled out her own ride home. Naomi's bold nature insists on pedaling hard. She's like her dad that way. Head down. The wheels fight their way across the grass to the bike path. McKibbin and I watch as she advances toward us.

Those training wheels, McKibbin says, should come off this summer. Chin to chest Naomi shifted her gaze and abruptly stopped, almost toppled over. I flinch and close my eyes. Waiting for the crash or the sound of her cry. I remind myself I'm not cut out to teach my kid modes of transit.

She's O.K., McKibbin says. Bird. Stopped so the bird wouldn't get hurt.

I open my eyes as Naomi, unphased, re-mounts her bike and trudged toward us. The bird circled higher. We all head home.