Handlebars

Last night my sister and I dusted off our old bikes and went around the block with my dear old dad. They say that once you've learned to ride a bike, you don't forget, but I'm not so sure, I wobbled up and down the street for a bit just to get used to it again.I think I got taller because it was a strain to reach the handlebars. And that tiny seat hurt to sit on! I know my butt has definitely expanded since then. Luckily our street is quiet enough that it was pretty empty of traffic. And once I was confident enough I could look around- I actually missed my neighborhood. I remembered which house had the mean dobermans, and which house had too many toys in the front yard. I passed the adopted second home of my late cat Felix. I rode by my old middle school and remembered how I'd ride in the abandoned parking lot late into the afternoon with the twins. And the chilly air felt good, and the trees lit up by steetlamps framed the navy sky, and oh, that moon, just waning, gray-spotted. I didn't want to stop.