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I learned to ride a bicycle out of necessity at the age of 11. My oldest son, on the other hand, learned at the age of 4.
The pleasure he felt when he first learned to ride without training wheels is something I do not remember from my experience. I distinctly remember the hurt from falling down, and the embarrassment that would follow.
The ease with which he negotiates turns and bumps I never felt -- I was always one bump or turn away from falling on my ass, or so I thought.
It seems we were two worlds away, in two distant times, brought together by chance. And we were. I'd like to think that I got my second chance with him.
In the FREE Polaroid Camera – Seriously photo essay.
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