When I was younger than four, I tagged along with
my older brother and the neighbourhood kids. I was
sat on the back of a bike and my mum warned me
not to put my legs near the wheel. she said it
wouldn’t end well. Truer words weren’t ever spoke.
The oldest of the kids had his heart in his mouth as he
walked me to the door a few minutes later. My ankle
instantly bruised, cuts and grazes swimming through it.
I have been trying my best to poke my feet through
gaps in the wheel ever since. I might never learn.
No one needs to walk me to the door now, at least.
So there’s that. Which has to be something. Right?