these were the days of pastures for miles and cows right across the street. occasionally we would wake up with one standing right in our front yard, smart thing found its way out of the fence. while standing awestruck at the sight of this monstrous beast in our yard the sweet smell of roses tickled my nose.
just across the yard were roses of every color, shape and size. their fragrance filled the air. blue hydrangeas around every corner, beckoning bees for miles. my grandmother, with every single white hair in place and a slight hunch of the back, would make her way to the yard one step at a time. she would drag that old water hose, skinny green, to each of those precious ones and quench their undying thirst caused by the summer heat.
her driveway was paved and i lost count of the miles as i turned round and round that patch of cement. singing made-up songs as loud as my lungs would allow.
age took hold. the desire to grow up made its way to the top of my priorities and i didn't ride my bike anymore.
after dinner we snuck out of the house for a bike ride around the neighborhood. the first of many. our ride, peaceful. only the sound of lawn mowers in the distance and our wheels turning on the pavement. she pedaled as hard as her legs would let her and i coasted by her side. from time to time she would look over and smile, mouth open wide with delight. i let her lead the way. after a couple of miles i thought she'd be ready to head home but she insisted we take the other circle.
its hilly, i warned.
i don't mind mommy.
so on we went.
at the end of our course there was a steep hill that terrified me for her. i pictured broken bones and missing teeth. we stopped at the top and i told her to use her brakes on the way down.
she is not.
when i gave her the word she pushed off with all of her might, head forward, eyes wide. as she glided down the hill of doom she let out a yaaaaaahoooooooo. it was at that moment that i relinquished my death grip on caution and joined in her glorious delight.
*just writing with heather