Wheels

"Try this one," she says and points to a bicycle with a gray frame for me to borrow. Apprehension fills my head as I see myself flying over the handlebars wrapped with pink tape. We pull it down anyway and I shed my regular clothes for leggings, tank top, and helmet. The ride turns to fun as I peddle along the flat trails heading out of the city. The movement has grace and I return giddy with plans for purchasing my own road bike. The search starts simply for something cheap, or bottom of the barrel, that can be bruised and contused free from guilt, but they feel as good as they cost. I find myself testing new end-of-year close out models. I pick one and line up accompanying gear. The sales clerk hands me the tab and I swallow. My credit card stays in my wallet. Sitting down, I ask for a moment to think about this simple-turned-complicated buy. A to-do list ticks through my head. A new garage roof, a week's stay in Paris, a small house for a family living in a tent camp in Haiti. Most children around the world do not know the pleasure of being on two wheels, using their own legs to propel themselves through a breeze. I turn away and go home to use what I have.