Thoughts and Other Things

I remember the first time I rode a bicycle - I was nervous but excited. Dad would hold my bicycle so I wouldn’t fall. I was so scared that I made sure that he did not to let go, but somehow, when I was paying more attention on my footwork and road ahead, I noticed that he wasn’t there anymore. I looked back and saw that he was no longer holding me. My heart begun pounding - I knew that since he let go the potential of me falling off and getting injured was greater. I felt safe with dad near, but now he had let go.  But I didn’t fall (at least not that day). I got the hang of riding a bicycle, but my dad had to let go and let me be on my own so I could learn.  Growing up I didn’t mind being surrounded by people, whether my family or people at my church because I felt comforted knowing that I was not alone and that I wouldn’t ‘fall’ because someone was always around to hold me up. This made me very dependent. As a last born (the treasure of the family if I might add), when the time came