#SoCS: Profound and Pink

She steps out into the morning sun, a growing child of five, taking in the warmth of spring and new beginnings. The child heads to her love, a pink bike that sits in the corner of the yard, the one thing that brings adventure to her life as the tires spin across the grass and gravel. The sun beckons her down the block, across the cracks of sidewalk cement and slowly, across decades, she ages into her real self, the gray-haired woman of sixty-five who finds joy and a Cheshire smile in a lifelong passion on two wheels.

Bicycling is profound in spirit. It wraps its beating heart around the rider and propels itself forward. Through the trees and foliage of three seasons. Through the spectrum of a color wheel. Avoiding chipmunks and bunnies that dare to cross its path and with an air that wafts spring clean, summer humid and autumn leaf crunchy.

She didn’t know, that child, what a precious gift the pink bike would be in such a short time. The training wheels would eventually come off and she would outgrow a birthday present in only a few years. The child grew fast and tall and the pink bike would be replaced with others. Different sizes, different colors, different skinned knee marks with an occasional fall of clumsiness. Pink was her first love, though. Like a first doll, a first kitten, a first boy crush. One never forgets their first.

God is there on the trail, whispering in the breeze as legs and spokes and a greasy chain obey his commands. He directs with soft-spoken breath, to watch for gopher holes and soft sand. He asks that the tires stop and the rider listen to His spirit. It is all around the rider, in the thick woods, the cat-tailed marsh, the flowing stream, the clumps of green fern fronds and Queen Anne’s Lace. Warm and embracing, even on the coolest days of September.

Years pass, but profound love never dies. The child, the five-year old, wheels her way to a gangly teenage youth and then responsible adulthood. The bicycle of choice carries her through marriage, an educational job, always-there friends, religious faith, and furry faces. She finds new life, a new chapter in the “after.” After divorce, after parental loss, after employment. The little pink bike of long ago has morphed into something black and orange and fitted to her 5’8″ frame. A lasting gift from a thoughtful brother. A gift that takes her somewhere and everywhere.

The place to bike never really matters, only time and a bit of exertion. Over the years, the tires wear and are replaced, a cushioning seat and odometer added, and care is taken by a bicycle mechanic and the aging user. Upright, pedaling, moving forward, breathing existence on two wheels. Planning trips or biking on the fly. Comparing notes with the brother. Time and exertion and profound happiness.

Freedom is her mantra. Exploration is the goal. Every day in sunshine or clouds, paved or gravel trails, 10 miles or 20. The times on a bicycle precious. The years of memories stored in her mind’s eye, ready to make new. She waits now for spring, for the days of dry pavement and temperatures that don’t require long underwear and a winter jacket. She waits for the first outing, when soft muscles scream awake in delight and a tear forms from joy and allergies. A new year, new rides, a feeling that she has a hard time expressing in words. If only others could feel what she feels, what she felt long ago, a five year old child, on that little pink bike.

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Along with the weekly Stream of Consciousness, this post is a response to author Teagan Geneviene at Teagan’s Books after she included the above photo with an early February post and I commented with a short fictional blurb. Teagan encouraged continuation of the comment with help from the photo, and that resulted in a mix of fiction and me. Thanks, Teagan, for a soft kick in the butt, because at times I need it. ❤

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Stream of Consciousness Saturday is the brainchild of author Linda G. Hill. Every Friday, Linda provides her followers with an inspiring blogger’s prompt. It can be a word or words and sometimes bonus points are involved (my favorite). Linda asks us to write without editing, other than correcting spelling errors.

Just go with the flow.

Like a babbling brook or rain drops. Click HERE if this type of writing floats your boat or helps with your decision-making. Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “pro” and use it any way you like in your post. Enjoy!