First Machine

The bell rang as you crossed the threshold of the small store, your body filled with trepidation. Overhead intimidating machines hung precariously. More were lined up on the floor. An overwhelming array. You held my hand and smiled as I suggested your favorite color. Perched in the middle of a row was a red one at which you pointed emphatically. You examined the machine with curiosity, but your timid moves betrayed your apprehension. When you discovered its bell, you decided you wanted to take it home.

You proudly showed it off to your mother and sister, who were waiting in the doorframe as we arrived at the house. You commented on its shininess, it's rich red hue. A helmet was secured to your head and you tentatively mounted the machine. You moved your feet and it began to move. With a little bit of guidance, you soon mastered the controls and tamed the beast. WIthin minutes you were flying down the sidewalk.

That day you rode your first bike. You felt the wind in your hair and the cold against your cheeks as you sped along under your own power. You felt the rush of adrenaline and the exhilaration showed on your flushed face. Today, you became free.

All the while I stood there watching you, silently reminiscing about my own youth and the machine that I loved.