Although the picture is blurry, I can still see it. I can see my hands stretched out before the handlebars, riding in a straight path down my street. I can feel my dad’s masculine hand on the back of my seat. “Don’t let go yet!” I said, my underdeveloped wings fighting the urge to prosper in flight. I called back to him to let go,
summing up the courage to finally take flight. Before I could realize, dad had already pushed me out of the nest and let go of the back of my seat. I felt as if I was flying down the pavement, watching the trees glide by me. Despite being in motion, I felt motionless. The summer breeze against my face and open avenue before my eyes had me seduced me into the idea that I was still. In that moment, all I knew was that I had finally taken the official step into growing up.