The Purple Bike

I used to own a purple bike with a banana seat and a white basket glued with brightly colored flowers. It was my second first bike. My first bicycle was actually my grandfather's and with it I proved that one CAN forget how to ride a bike. I learned to ride at the age of 4 in Pune, India. Then when my parents migrated to India I got my second bike, only to realize that I forgot how to ride it. If I think about it the bike laid the foundation for my new life in America. For suddenly I seemed to have forgotten things my body already knew. Like how to stand in front of a room full of strange children. How to sing the books of the Old Testament. How to be comfortable with my skin for all of a sudden everyone around me was uncomfortable with it.

Somehow I had convinced myself that the secret to bike riding was to balance on two wheels. My brother disabused me of this notion upon watching my disastrous attempts. "You have to move. There is no balance without movement." Ah. Of course it would take a future Nuclear Engineer to drive that point home. More importantly, a big brother. I finally ditched the balancing act and pedaled forward, which of course brought me to movement and yes, balance. Let's hope you don't make the same mistake as me and forget how to ride a bike. But if you do, remember: There is no balance without movement.