How to hold a baby (while cycling)
unfinished letter #10
The day before school started again last week, D and I went out for long, languid bike ride. The weather was perfect, just a hint of cool in the air, and a bright, clear sky with loads of sun. We only had an hour or two, so we headed south through Little Italy to Dow’s Lake, took the route by the Rideau Canal, circled through downtown and headed home.
D mostly rode ahead of me, too tall for his bike, shoulders set, the wind catching in his t-shirt like a sail. I caught myself 5 or 6 times about to call out safety reminders. A little warning about the loose gravel on the path, a reminder of sudden drops and sharp turns.
Instead, I held my tongue. This boy was heading to high school the next day. Whatever I have taught him of bike safety, he already knows it.
Along Queen Elizabeth Drive, I saw two figures ahead of us. A man on a bike, and a small child beside him, riding in perfect unison, side by side. I marveled at their synchronicity. Because our pace was leisurely, it took some time to catch up, to see them in the light of the sun instead of always turning ahead at the next curve in the road.