Pink Bicycles

Life is like riding a bicycle. You don't fall off unless you plan to stop peddling.-- Claude Pepper


Why a pink bicycle? 

When I moved to my new place, the first thing my fiancé and I purchased was a pink Schwinn bicycle (he already had a mountain bike he'd purchased several years earlier). Since we live in such a gorgeous region of Arkansas, we agreed that we'd love to ride our bikes around the area.

Our first ride was definitely a lesson in patience. I had failed to mention that I hadn't ridden a bike in over ten years; he'd failed to mention that his multi-gear mountain bike could manage the hills of our neighborhood much more efficiently than my cute little cruiser.

After several stops, we finally reached the park closest to our apartment complex. It was Memorial Day, so we watched the families gather together and set out their picnics of homemade sandwiches, lemonade, and ice cream sandwiches. Though we were tired (physically and emotionally), we managed to find a secluded spot near the lake to talk. I confessed that my patience was, more often than not, far too temporary. Why? Ultimately, because I felt that if he hurt my feelings or said something disrespectful it was my duty to acknowledge his brusqueness, regardless of how my response changed the atmosphere of the day. In other words, I was so concerned with making things "right" that I wasn't allowing myself to simply enjoy the ride.

When I was a little girl, I would ride my bike up and down the country road in front of my house. I loved feeling the wind against my face and legs, speeding along the edge of the road for hours on end. For some reason, after my family moved, I never rode my bike again. In fact, I don't know what happened to that bike. But something about the day with my fiancé brought back memories of my childhood, making me realize that the simplicity of childhood is founded upon these activities. Riding a bike, exploring the backyard, playing at a park...all of these are so simple and yet so exciting.

I hope and pray that my life will continue to be a string of simplistically happy moments.