Years Beyond Her Wisdom

Today when I woke up there was a nine year old girl in my bed. Her eyes snapped open like a nodder doll and with a single volatile kick, threw back her covers and began jumping with glee on the warm soft spot she had spent her restless night. Then she bounded to the window, where she parted the curtains with one hand and pressed the other that was balled into a fist to her mouth as she squealed with excitement. It stood right were she had left it ever so carefully the evening before. In the softly filtered morning light, The Blur stood shining proudly, awaiting the little girl and the day's adventures that lay ahead.

She had been relentless to the mother the day before. "I want a bike." "No, we have better uses for our money than a new bike." "But I'll use it every day?" "No, there are too many bills that need to be paid first." "But can I at least go and look at all the different bikes they carry at the bicycle store?" "Ok, but to only look at the bikes, on the way to buy groceries" "I will just look at the bikes then." "Yes, just look."

She had acted like a spoilt little brat in the bicycle shop, embarrassing that poor mom. "How much is that one?" she would demand, having the clerk pull the model she was obstinately pointing at, making the harassed young man working there take it down. "No-wait, that one!", changing her mind again as soon as she spotted a prettier one. She went so far as to test ride them in the over crowded shop between the rows of parked two wheeled apparatuses until she was stopped. When she was given permission to try it out the blue one in the parking lot, she refused to get off. "Weee" she yelled as she maneuvered between the cars of the pothole infested space. When the lyrics to Blurs Song Number Two would not leave her head, (weee-whoo!! yeah, yeah...), she knew this bike had it's name and was meant to be hers. The nice salesman talked her out of ridding it home and helped the mom load The Blur into the SUV.

The little boys of the neighborhood all gathered around and sighed in admiration as it was unloaded onto the driveway. Many ridding lessons and pointers were offered to the little girl before she hopped on The Blur and took off down the dive and out into the street. The pack of surprised boys shouting in hot pursuit as she lead the way, ringing her bell and laughing at their frustration of not being able to catch up to her. Who knew they could be beat by such a girl?

Today though was the big day. They (her and the bike) were going on their first trip. She danced and hummed as her brushed her teeth. She giggled and picked out an outfit to compliment The Blur. Then she found an even better one to compliment her butt while ridding The Blur. Then she packed her saddlebags. Lunch, water, tissues, camera, cell phone, mad money, hair brush, granola bars, would accompanied them on the journey. She would of packed a map, but knew were they were going. On an adventure.

For the first mile she peddled as fast as her little legs would let her, her eyes glued to speedometer until she veered off the blacktop doing thirteen miles an hour and into the ditch. While sitting there amongst the wild flowers and butterfly's she decided to concentrate on more of the beauty of the surrounding scenery and less of the technical wonderments of her new prize so back on The Blur she swung once again and on to seize the day.

Miles two and three zoomed by with her operating the multi shifting leavers hoping to try out all forty of the mostly unused gears. It was that killer hill on mile four when she got the gear shifter stuck and pulled into the ditch filled with sweet grass and crickets to fix it she really began to feel the burn inside her legs. With a determined snort she pushed off with the inclines summit insight ahead of her.

The yellow dividing lines rushed past her as she sped down that challenging hill for mile five. Mile six, when she realized she would have to work her aching legs again, hurt more than the dull ache in her backside from the skinny torture bar of a seat. It was mile seven, when she sat in that weed infested litter strewn ditch and bawled like a little girl from pain that she thought of calling the mom and asking her to pick her up and give her a ride home. Through her hot tears and muscle cramps she realized the shame she now was mom and getting old hurts.

Pack a lunch. It's a long trip.