I need to....

It's been awhile again. I love to write, but for whatever reason I have been putting it off. I don't even know why. As I sit hear and think, I wonder what negative thought or feeling could be causing me to not do something I love.

All the typical reasons run through my brain. It's not time. I can and will make time to do the things I enjoy. I'm not scared of writing online either. I've done it for so long that my blog house feels safe and comfortable. I write down the thoughts and memories in my head and understand that it is just my experience and perspective. Inside, I just keep feeling forced to sit and share. But yet, I am here and trying to do it yet again. It is kind of like riding a bicycle.

I clearly remember my first bike. I was so happy when my grandfather gifted me with my first two-wheeled bike. It was terra-cotta orange with a big brown banana seat. I was four and on cloud nine. Although I hated birthdays due to everyone staring at me (another story), I loved presents. My grandfather knew this and was so kind to bring that bike over when only my mother was there. To all the other girls on the block, it was a color nightmare. But to me, it was perfect for a Cleveland Brown's fan. The cowboy and American Indian decals were an added symbolic bonus. It represented both my grandparents in a quiet way that made me smile to myself.

My bike created a new feeling in me. Having your own transportation is so empowering, even for a four year old. It brought me a taste of independence. My blue big wheel had been wonderful for getting around as a 2 and 3 year old, but the limitations of the driveway left me feeling caged like a wild beast. As powerful as the big wheel was, I was still left pacing up and down the driving just like an animal does at the zoo. I just wanted to go farther and faster. I want to be like the other big kids and cruise down the sidewalk. I yearned to ride down the long path that looked like it went on forever. I could feel the sidewalk tease me too as it cut across the driveway. It was so close and seemed so easy to pedal my way on that road, but my mother's rules kept me bound.

The new bike brought new rules. I was allowed to cruise the sidewalk in front of my house, but I was forced to have training wheels added. At that point, I didn't care. Just whip them on and let's go was all I wanted to do.

I learned the hard way that riding a bike takes some practice. I don't know learning to balance and multi-task on a bike was such an important part of riding a two-wheeled bike. Trust me, it is and you need to learn it quick. Practice included many falls ans would include some scrapes and bruises. It looks easy enough when the other kids rode by on their bikes. But for some like me,it was a big challenge and at times a little bloody. But still, I rode. I graduated up the bike path to a teen-speed with hand brakes and many gears. That independence took me to new distances across my city and with many friends. At one point, the neighbor joined in the journeys.

I rode a bicycle until I was 17. After getting my license and becoming an official driver of the family Honda, my bike was moved to the back of the garage. Eventually, the fabulous ten-speed of my teens became a yard sale special. Every once in a while, the opportunity to ride again would come and I would do it willingly. As I got older, getting back on the bike got harder and less fun. Falls could now lead to broken bones and medical bills. Riding became a risk and risks can be scary.

It only takes one memory for me to get back on a bicycle. It is remembering that sensation of the wind blowing across my face and in my hair. That very moment when you stretch out your arms, hold your face to the sun and smile is so peaceful and free to me. Yeah, I may wobble at first as I adjust my balance, but soon my skill takes over as my confidence builds. Then like before, I am riding.

Writing again feels like that. I don't know the risks I fear, but I remember the wonderful feeling it brought me as I wrote. I remember the independence I felt as I liberated each story upon the world. As for my skills, they never went anywhere. I may wobble at first, but as long as I keep writing, my skills will grow. I will continue to overcome boundaries like just that four year old me did long ago.

Stay sweet 'n smile............................Mz.