By Barbara Taylor
Dad finally bought me a sky-blue bicycle after years of embarrassed borrowing. I rode it in the snow.
When I left for college, he gave away the Christmas miracle—so freely, so generously—to a stranger’s daughter on an ordinary day. We won’t even speak about what happened to the dog. He giveth and he taketh away, right?
Today I found an old red bike on Craigslist. Good seat. Needs new tires. Not a beauty, but it is mine. And I figure it will stay mine ‘til both of us rust out.
Let them arrest me for riding without a helmet.
I love this. Quiet, unassuming sentences that demand to be reread over and over again. This was a joy. Well done.
A gentle little story, yet so full of life!
I love this!
Nice story about the emergence of rebellion – justified only when you realize the value of something you hold as YOURS. Keep the imagination lit and the joints greased, you’ll do well with your writing.
Brought me back to my childhood in Illinois when my father bought me my first bike. I loved that thing. When I rode it I imagined myself riding a wild stallion.
I was entertained from the opening line. Great.
Barbara Taylor is a fantastic writer, as evidenced by the number of journals carrying her stories. Amazing that in so few words she is able to convey so much, but then I’ve become used to that in her writing. Hope to see more of her here.
It’s cute 🙂 I like it.