Bicycle Day
By Canonette
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It’s my birthday; I come home from school to find everything heliotrope.
My bedroom walls are no longer a spring meadow,
now they are lilac and a peculiar seventies shade of electric lavender.
Daddy is smiling; he wants me to be pleased, he wants me to say thank you.
The sunshine is violent, blindingly atomic; he wheels my real gift out of the garage. Was he clean shaven, moustachioed or bearded? Perhaps I was wearing the mauve dress that Aunty Violet crocheted?
My present is a bicycle, a purple Prima.
I don’t love it; never free-wheel down the hill, never cycle down country lanes feeling the wind in my hair, because there are none.
I want my feet planted firmly on the pavement. And so, I perfect a way of walking up and down the street while sitting on the saddle; the backs of my legs are always sore, where the pedals scrape at them.
No pretty bell to trill, not like the other girls. Daddy thinks it's a funny joke to give me a horn - like a clown at the circus.
My cycling days were a bad trip - had a touch of the Albert Hoffman.
The only thing I can tell you about bicycles is that I always fall off them.
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Comments
Lol. We want so much to do
Lol. We want so much to do fun nice things for our children and are so sad when they are not happy about it, not fully appreciating that they are different to us with their own likes and dislikes. Thanks for sharing
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So funnily written, but sadly
So funnily written, but sadly true - it's that feeling when you are disappointed but responsible for a parents gladness at giving a surprise present that's nearly right but so wrong - summed up, I think, in the bell v horn. Great ending lines.
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Such a thought provoking
Such a thought provoking piece. Made me ponder on things done for e children which may not have really been what they wanted, but like you, they were kind enough to grin and bear it. A nice read, Canonette
Linda
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I can picture this and feel
I can picture this and feel the disappointment. The quirky little details draw it so well.
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