First I would like to thank all the folks who have read my first blog and indicated that they liked it. I feel fortunate that all of you took the time to read my words and ticking the like button. I am still new in navigating around this blogsite and since I am naturally slow (read: a technological dinosaur) it will take me a while to respond to other people’s blogs and “like” them and comment on what has been said/written. Eventually I will get the hang of it and learn how to move about on this new field of blogging just like riding a bicycle for the first time, clutching onto the handlebars, wobbling on the saddle and pushing the pedals so fast that your knee joints crack. You want to let out a whoop or a yipee, some primeordial sound of joy that keeps the fear of falling off your bike at bay. The wind whips through your hair, you feel the speed that you have created flow along the skin of your legs, arms and torso knocking on your brain and making you break out in a wide smile. A victorious smile that you’ll remember for a long time, maybe your whole life. The first time you create movement using a moveable object to transport you along is so exhilarating that you can’t seem to stop. You are caught in this circle of perpetual movement and you simply keep on going. Fear does not exist and will never be your companion as you push on the pedals to keep your momentum going. You barely hear your mom call out “not so fast” as the knowledge of your new independence makes you grow a bit taller in the saddle. That night before you fall asleep you can still feel the motion pumping through your body as you relive the joy of riding a bike for the first time. You promise your mom that you will only venture to where it is safe and you are grateful for having learned a new skill, for being able to get to places faster and for meeting up with your mobile friends. You all swear not to tell about the races you participate in behind the barns on the old country roads and you won’t breathe a word about the semi-dangerous postures that you practice to imitate, the ones that make you look like the acrobats in their sparkling silver suits that performed at the circus when it came to town. Like with many firsts, you become inseparable from your bike. You ride it everywhere, everyday and when the tires get a little flat, you stop, detach your shiny pump from the bike’s frame, attach the top to the little gadget on the tire and then you pull and push, pull and push and pump in the air to make your tires rideable again. On the fridge at home, your mom posts pictures that you drew depicting you riding your bike and you don’t notice how she swallows just a bit with a mixture of fear and pride because you are taking flight. You keep riding your bike with joy and you’ve learned to wave and smile at your mom when she is watching you from the kitchen window as you take off on a new adventure.
I’m grateful for the joys in my life – I show gratitude with joy.