it all comes down to trust.
a little step,
a little push
your daddy holds your hand the first time when
you walk up to your bike
buckles your pink sparkly helmet
you beg him not to make you
but he promises it’ll be okay
and you trust him.
so off you go
you look back every once in a while to
make sure his hands
are still on the back of your seat
they always are.
then one day suddenly
they aren't
but you aren't angry
a little scared, maybe
the wind in your face
soothes that right away
your pigtails swing behind you
just like your bike tassels
you’ll take your first fall
probably soon after that
your first thought is
“where's daddy?”
and you can't look down at your
surely scraped knees
he comes running from the garage,
hands greasy
helps you up with a smile
the world is right.
you’re a little bit scarred
a little bit scared
to ride for a while
and when you do you
fasten your training wheels back on
with a little shame
but eventually, you can
take them off again
and you're conquering hills
and slopes
and you see your dad’s proud smile
when you tell him about your adventures
and then you're proud too.
everything in life
is like riding a bike.
you’ve learned a lot when you're four or five
how to read, how to talk
but no one told you how mean kids can be
and you fall
but somebody helps you back up, eventually
you’ve got it all figured out by the age of eight
finally have a best friend who
will wear fake glasses with you
to school cause you think it's cute
and have a secret club in a tent you
set up in your basement
but your gramma dies and you don't understand
you can't understand
how goodness didn't come through this time
you fall
somebody helps you back up
at eleven you discover that sometimes
friendship doesn't last
that there are cooler and better
people than you
or at least, that's what the voices
in your head tell you
suddenly you have nowhere to sit
at lunch so
you eat in a classroom
and read books with your teacher
all through the long, long hour
and cry from time to time
you find yourself falling
til somebody helps you back up
when you’re fourteen things
start to fall apart
your dad moves out and
your mom works late
and your boyfriend forgets about
your dinner dates and
never brings you flowers
and you see perfection on social media
and wonder why your life doesn't
look like that
you find that your hair doesn't curl
like you want it to
and you don't have enough money
for the latest trends
your friends are richer,
or better, or cooler
you fall again and again
but somebody always helps you back up
by the time you're seventeen
you're a little bit of
a hardened soul
understand life better
than most of your classmates
and you know it, too
find your meaning in poetry and
late night conversations with yourself
you struggle when your evenings
with your dad start to
trickle down the drain like murky bathwater
til you see him once a month, maybe
even though he lives three miles away
you hate his new stepdaughters for
stealing him away
and you throw out your old bike
that you'd saved all this time
with its dusty flowered basket and its
tattered tassels
cause it's just a reminder of
what you don't have anymore
you keep on falling down a hole of apathy
but somebody always shows up
to pick you back up
at twenty you think
that you finally got it right
have a loving man at your side
a perfect grade point average,
a lovely voice
a healing of the hurt
you thought
til the loving man isn't loving anymore
and you get a C in chemistry
and you get terribly sick
and can't sing anymore
your hateful man leaves your side
for another just like daddy
and you lose who you thought you were
and realize you never knew
you fall
somebody picks you up
it starts to feel like a rhythm
falling and getting
helped off the ground
you're reminded from time to time
of the love that your friends show
and the way you can't reciprocate
you need training wheels to walk some days
but you smile to hide it
you get tired of falling
and people having to pick you back up
one day you meet a man who
loves the outdoors almost as much
as he loves you
he brings you flowers
he surprises you with Chinese food
on your worst days
he never expects things of you and
is patient, and kind, and
willing to serve
he begs you to hike with him
“the mountains are so beautiful
you would love them”
he says but
you hate the outdoors
but
you love him
you start to love nature, too
he was right, it is calming
you forget about falling
and betrayal
and longing
and suddenly you're all in
and he sees that in you
on your twenty-second birthday
you find in your garage
a brand new bike
with a note attached
your outdoor man
wants you to join him
on a cross-country bike trip
you pause and think back
to your little pink bike
with its representation
of all that went wrong
and you can't wait to ride again
a redemption of sorts
surely you'll fall on some rocky trail
out west
but you know for certain
that you'll look up and see
an outstretched hand that won't
ever leave
riding a bike
is all about trust
and the willingness to fall sometimes
because the falling makes
the getting back up
mean something.
doesn't it?