I grew up surrounded by the scent of water and motor oil. Water from the lake near my home and oil, the unfortunate gift left behind by the boats as they loaded and unloaded in and out of the murky waters.
Swimming, sun bathing, and bicycles filled the summers of my youth. These were summers made for true adventures—-Nancy Drew level adventures.
So, I was completely caught off guard when the day finally arrived. My Dad moved my bike from the garage to the driveway. He called up to my bedroom from below. He stood silently, wrench in hand, over my cobalt blue, Schwinn Pixie. The bike of my little girl dreams. It was fully loaded with a custom license plate and pink and white plastic streamers that danced happily from the ends of the handle bars-sheer perfection. With one strong tug, he tore off the confidence I relied on from my training wheels. He told me to hop on and that he would be right behind me holding on.
The gravel road was filled with big, bubbly pockets of hot tar from the summer sun. We were off and running. I felt the strength of my Dad’s hand planted at the back of my white leather seat.
Slightly out of breath he yelled, “steady, steady, balance, easy does it.”
We whizzed on faster and faster, and he continued “pedal, pedal, don’t forget to pedal.”
And then, the single magical moment when I knew, and he knew I knew.
I was staying upright on my own.
I turned my head and there was nothing between us but a road of freshly popped tar bubbles, and my Dad in his Bermuda shorts and knee socks waving to me from a distance.
I could almost hear his thoughts…..
There you go…..fly, fly. You can do it, I know you can. You did it. Don’t look back.
There are moments when a secret smile of success says it all. Simple moments that fuel you for a lifetime.
Full of Hope