NaBloPoMo DAY 23:
Today is trash day and I’m reminded of my youth and the joy of riding my bike. Yet for a little girl somewhere, her bike will no longer give her hours of exhilarating delight, riding it to school, to the park and to places only the wings of her imagination can find.
Perhaps she outgrew this bike. Maybe she rode it into the ground. Who knows? For the bike does not speak. The bike shares not the little child’s secrets.
Nor does it know of what awaits it in the bowels of the town dump. Sad, little bicycle, alone and forgotten. See how it lays motionless in the gutter, lonely and desolate, probably with a good many questions of its own. For starters, it must be thinking, “Why me?”
Why, indeed. All good things must come to an end, wee one.
For now, the bike is headed to its final resting place. Let’s hope it had a chance to say its proper goodbyes. RIP, sweet bike. You served your mistress well, I’ve no doubt of that.
One day, when she is grown with children of her own, she will remember the fun times and the happiness you brought her for a little while in her state of wonder, that which we call, youth.
Note: I’m taking part in NaBloPoMo. Thirty days, 30 posts.
EXCITING NEWS! I ate a pickle and it was sour!
Don’t forget, I’m awarding a prize to one lucky reader–the one person who has commented on the most posts this month. If there’s a tie, I’ll do a drawing. So, thanks for adding your two cents!