After some rushed instructions and a moment to balance, I push the black pedal down.
The bright red bike that I was too old for and I were moving over the cracked concrete with the summer breeze.
Away from my brother,
away from home,
away from all of my problems,
and for once in my life I was not afraid to fall.
The chocolate milk brown wall of the house passed me and the ash tree waved goodbye as I left the safety of home.
A scene that I would return to again and again.
Before biking down to the river as the sun grew red like a dying coal instead of finishing the English paper that would later keep me up.
Before being left alone with nothing but the stars escaping through the web of branches above and gravel crunching under my tires.
Before we returned to the eight hour bike ride we regretted the first time.
All contributing to something other than feeling insignificant.
He left a hunger for adventure.
But when the brown house and the lonely tree pass me for the last time, I don’t know which I’ll carry.