Separation

Just do a little loop and turn around

I yell,

seemingly into the ether

I have no idea whether he’s heard me or not. And even if he has, it doesn’t seem to matter.

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We calibrate to see if he’s a fit on Mama’s bicycle.

I’m not sure he’s quite there, but when he straddles the bar he’s able to stand with his feet fairly flat. It seems like that’s enough for now.

He loosens the seat, slides it all the way down, and it sits nestled into the tube.

I rotate the back wheel on his helmet, snugging it up.

You gonna be okay?

Yeah, papa

And he’s off.

It’s rush hour near the lake, and though we’re on the back stretch with layered brickwork and narrower lanes

it’s still jammed with commuters.

He’s not a speed merchant

yet.

He’s taking it easy, clearly getting the feel for the larger bike.

He’s getting so tall

And things are happening fast.

The journey of parenting is a constant exercise in risk management. Determining whether now is the time to feel panicked, relax the boundary, tighten the grip ever so slightly, or a combination of all those things.

In general, it’s the latter.

As parents, we need to be all things, all at once, everywhere.

Mentor, cheerleader, consul, sage, observer.

Get out of the way-er.

And today, that’s what I’ve needed to do.

I’ll be okay, Papa

I’ve got this

He says, without saying.

It takes a leap of faith to watch your child ride away amongst a sea of traffic, motorbikes and taxis, all huddled and massed.

Off, into the distance,

out of sight.

But never, ever

out of mind

Being on foot, I walk jog stroll to keep as close a watch as possible

But at some point, I am confronted with the truth, of him disappearing around the bend.

The truth, of watching your child bike out of sight.

The truth, of watching your child grow into the world

To take risks,

to find his way.

And, I remember those days, too well.

Those days when I felt safe enough to take a step, to move forward on my own, tell understand that I, finally,

was in charge.

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