They're right when they tell you that the day your child is born it changes you. They're right when they point out to you how deeply affected you are by first words, first steps, first injuries. Those that pause for longer than a cliché will tell you that the world becomes big again when you see it with your children.
A bike trailer became a favorite purchase, pulling my children around, sharing in the world that they see. Then yesterday it was time to get my oldest his first bike with training wheels.
After supper, he nervously took it halfway down the block and back. Me beside him, righting him once when he almost tipped. Still, independence. The time where he will need to be attached to me for transportation, where my motion is his motion, is slipping away. I watched those sixteen inch wheels spin, the determined set of his jaw, the white knuckles on his handle bars.
When they told me all that, they didn't mention the symbolism of a day like this.
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