Wednesday, August 17, 2011

Banana Seat

When I was a little girl, I had a bicycle almost exactly like this one.  I LOVED that bike.  It made me happy.  I thought it was beautiful.  I loved the sparkly white seat.  I loved the cornflower blue paint.  I loved riding it.  I loved jumping the curb with it.  I loved giving other kids a ride on the back of it.  I loved the handlebars.  I loved everything.

But I was indeed surprised this last weekend when my son, Christian, showed up at my door with a "surprise for you, Mamma."  I really couldn't guess what it might be.  Even though I know my son eats, lives, and breathes all things bicycular.  (I think I made that word up--but it fits.)  ; )

To my delight and surprise,  this it what he brought home for me:

"Now, I know it looks a little rough right now,"  he said.

"But I can fix it up to be like brand new and we can paint it any color you want."

I giggled and laughed at his silly surprise.  Someone had brought it into the bike shop where he works and just given it to them. 

"I can't ride that thing!" I declared, hesitantly.

But he insisted that I at least sit down on it.

And when I held those handlebars in my hands, the memories all came flooding back.  I was 10 years old again.  Riding down the street with the wind blowing my long blonde hair out behind me.  I had energy.  I was powerful.  I was fast.  I was free!

Even if we never get the bike fixed up and even if I never ride again on a banana seat, that moment of remembering was well worth it.

Thanks Christian!

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