He was really excited. I was a bit nervous. We finally each had a bike of our own and to Kyle this meant one thing: distance. Distance that he hadn’t otherwise obtained because normally I was on foot. And distance equals freedom for a 6-year old boy. But all I was thinking about was how many years it had been since I’d attempted to balance atop two wheels. “Can you ride without training wheels, Mom?” Perceptive that one.

I was as stiff as a celebrity in Madame Toussads while I imagined my neighbors munching popcorn at their windows, entertained with all that is me. The training wheels weren’t sounding like a half bad idea.

I took up the caboose of our little train, mostly by default. Nonetheless we were off. And I wasn’t falling, but I wasn’t having that much fun. Until I remembered to lean in. Each textured corner of the sidewalk I got a little more comfortable. My grip eased, my back relaxed, and I started to see in front of me. A little boy on an adventure. And I got to do it with him.