Freedom: A Memory

I am a little girl. I am riding my tricycle on the sidewalk. I have to watch for where the tree roots have raised up the concrete. It’s easy to go sideways if I’m not careful and tip over my trike. I can feel my legs churning up and down as I propel myself along the sidewalk from Pine Street down to Oak Street where I have to turn around. I am not allowed to ride my trike any further than that one long block. I feel strong and in control. I love my big red trike. It gives me a purpose, a place to go, a thing to do, a way to sail through the wind and feel alive. I am five years old and happy. My big red trike gives me my first real taste of my freedom.