November, 2007:
March, 2010:
His training wheels are officially gone, and off he goes. Part of me is still looking for the handle poking out of the back of his bike for me to hold on to. Which I could segue into some deep metaphor about kids growing up and learning to let go, but really, WHERE IS THE HANDLE?
Oh my goodness, he's GETTING so BIG!!
ReplyDeleteYour boys are so handsome.
Bravo, Cal!
ReplyDeleteLearning the Bicycle
ReplyDeletefor Heather
The older children pedal past
Stable as little gyros, spinning hard
To supper, bath, and bed, until at last
We also quit, silent and tired
Beside the darkening yard where trees
Now shadow up instead of down.
Their predictable lengths can only tease
Her as, head lowered, she walks her bike alone
Somewhere between her wanting to ride
And her certainty she will always fall.
Tomorrow, though I will run behind,
Arms out to catch her, she'll tilt then balance wide
Of my reach, till distance makes her small,
Smaller, beyond the place I stop and know
That to teach her I had to follow
And when she learned I had to let her go
--Wyatt Prunty