A Pit Stop in the Journey

A child must know, in his heart of hearts—as I believe every parent—the significance of learning how to bike. As far as I know, it has always been a childhood rite of passage.

On the day my son Matthew just learned how to bike, I watched him propel himself, balance with ease, cruise along ever so confidently, faster than me, turn around, and maneuver into tight spaces.  His limbs were strong to the task. It was to me a vision of my progeny out there, commandeering life on his own, apart from me. It was his moment of empowerment.

Although the accomplishment of this task is not as crucial as my son learning to walk, the feeling that it engendered in me is somehow similar. But aside from that, it is so much more meaningful for Matthew who is now able to appreciate the significance of this event.

I can already envision in the next decade my son driving to college; in another decade, my son starting his own family; and then, carving his own special niche in the world. But for now, I am one parent blessed to witness the smile of triumph proudly displayed on my son’s face on the day that he mastered the bike.

The whole stretch of road on this journey called parenthood is not all roses, it is true, but I am glad that here and there, along the way, I see glimpses of rainbows, and find nuggets of gold like this one. And though in the future, as my body ages, and my memory fades, I may forget exactly how he looked like—the smile bright on his face, his missing front tooth, his thin body perfectly balanced on his rusty, old bike---I will never forget how I felt on that given moment on that particular day.

No matter what the future brings for me and my son, I want him to remember that there was a time when he was seven, that   I  was standing there   watching him bike for the first time and thinking to myself how  blessed  I am and  proud  I am that he is mine.