memoirs of a tricycle

The years go by so quickly. A shiny red tricycle is now rusted and worn, but has had many a rider since it found a home. Everyone is almost too grown up to ride it, but I keep it to remember. I remember why it was purchased. This particular tricycle was the largest tricycle we could find at the time, plus the most durable. I remember tying her feet to the pedals to help them stay on. I had hoped so hard that my big little girl would learn how to do something normal before overgrowing her birthday gift. When I look at our tricycle now, I remember she never learned how to ride it. I remember the tears I shed mourning how she could not learn--not even how to do something fun. Then, little brother wanted to learn how to ride. He was afraid to even try, but I would push from behind always reminding to keep his feet on those pedals. I remember the joy on his face when he learned how to pedal without me beside him. Then, little sister rode it a few times, but mostly sat on the back steps like a seat while big brother and friends drove her around like the diva she has always been. When I look at our tricycle now, I remember how her tiny legs could not reach the pedals and once they could she wanted to ride big bikes instead--and did it. I remember her wanting to ride it once she was too big and doing it so she could say she used to ride it all the time too. Baby brother can ride it now, but rarely does. He likes to walk or run instead of working that hard to get into motion. I remember sharing it with friends and neighbors when they would come to visit, decorating it for a bike parade around our street, and now using it to decorate our porch. It has been there through all the stages of childhood and is a part of the family. I will always remember the joys and defeats it has seen and how it has always been there with my children and me.