It’s funny how our brains categorize events.
A song can bring back your graduation night.
A hint of smell takes you to your favorite family vacation.
My largest grief in moving from our first home after getting married was the memory of finding out I was pregnant in the bathroom.
Today I set a new memory in concrete.
My obnoxious, awful, wonderful, sweet, capable daughter who is more than willing to share her opinion freely learned to ride her bike without training wheels in the C & D aisles of the storage facility today.
It’s not exactly the locale I had hoped for… a picturesque suburban street with the tune of an ice cream truck and children playing in the distance would be more romantic.
Instead we had the sound of the garbage truck emptying the fast food joint’s Dumpster and the sound of highway traffic in the background.
But, on top of those noises I heard the rattle of her bike wheels on the uneven pavement…
… her little sister racing her own bike, training wheel still attached, right next to her as support…
… her baby sister throwing her hands up in the air and cheering, “Yay! Yay! Yay!”…
… and her Daddy’s quick, strong, sure footsteps right beside her as I sat clicking the camera.
It may not be exactly what I had imagined when I thought about her hitting this rite of passage, but it’s pretty good. I’ll take it.