Training Wheels

By Gabby Bloyd

A sunny summer’s day;

No more training wheels in May.

When I pushed off the pavement

My support gave no hint:

Off I went on my own

With no clue I was alone.

“She’s growing up so fast,”

I heard when I glanced back.

So independent, so big, so brave;

It was everything I had ever craved. 

More than a decade has passed in a blur;

How do I tell them I’m no longer sure?

I miss my old room, my fridge art display;

I miss our routines like “how was your workday?”

I miss the mundane, everyday things

Like helping with dinner and hearing mom sing.

Forced family photos weren’t really that bad,

And even if I’m wrong, shared laughs were had.

Although I know we often disagreed,

My adult self will always run to your arms with glee.

Now I’m all grown up, no training wheels in sight.

I’m riding on my own on a real adult bike.

Hot tears prick my eyes as I write line-by-line

And think of my home on East Greenview Drive.

There I learned to walk and ride a bike,

And even though I’m grown I won’t leave those memories behind.

Although my support is no longer at arm’s length,

I know mom and dad are always waiting, just a phone call away.

By Gabby Bloyd