training wheels
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training wheels

Did I ever tell you about when I tried to learn to ride a bike?

I must have been 7. Or 8.

I wanted to ride a bike, so while she was still alive, Mommy got me a real nice bike, with a titanium frame, 21 gears, and training wheels attached to the side. It was fun to ride with the training wheels. I could go around the whole block without a struggle. I’d wave hi to Mrs. Meriwether’s dog sitting on the front porch on a hot summer’s day.

But one day, I said I wanted to take off the training wheels.

Mommy asked me why. She said, "Wallflower, honey, you’re having so much fun with the training wheels. Why take them off?"

I said, "I have to take them off. Everyone else rides a bike without training wheels. Why am I any different?"

And Mommy said, "Yes, you are different, Wallflower. You are different and you shouldn’t try to measure yourself up to everyone else. Just because everyone else is doing something doesn’t mean it’s the right thing for you."

But I didn’t listen and I asked Mommy to take off the training wheels with a wrench. Mommy got a blister from gripping the wrench. She didn’t like that.

She said to me, "You don’t have to do this, you know."

"No. I want to do this," I said.

She told me to be careful. Because I might fall. Because I would fall. Mommy only let me go for a little bit down the driveway, so that she could see me. I’d go for a little bit, slowly, with little baby steps.

And then I’d tip over and fall.

After I cried, Mommy hugged me and put a really big bandage on my scraped knee and she put her arm over my shoulder and took me back inside.

It was a lazy Sunday afternoon. The sun was hot. The streets were dead except for the croak of old window air conditioners.

And Mommy would put the training wheels back on, so I could have fun again. And I would ride around the block and wave hi to the doggie.

My 9th birthday came.

Still had the training wheels. I decided again that I wanted to take them off, so Mommy took them off. And I’d take a few baby steps, and I’d fall. So Mommy put them back on.

"Don’t worry, sweetie," she said. "I’ll put the training wheels back on and everything will be back to normal like it always has been."

A fake normal. With training wheels.

And so on it went.

Few weeks later, I decide to take them off. Took them off. Took a few baby steps. Fell over. Gave up. Mommy put them back on.

Few weeks later. Took them off. Fell a few more times. Mommy put them back on.

And falling wasn’t fun. It wasn’t fun at all. But the point of taking off the training wheels wasn’t to fall.

It was to stop falling. And learn not to fall.

I never learned to ride a bike.

Before Sunset and I go out on a date, Sunset hands over her mind-reading geode to me.

It's something we agreed on when we first started going out. I feel more comfortable this way. She can touch me freely, and I don't have to worry about her accidentally reading my thoughts.

That's how our dates go. I wave hi to Sunset from a distance. We walk to her car. She undoes the clasp of the necklace from the back of her neck, and drops it into my cupped hands. The chain slithers into my hands in a sort-of figure eight pattern. Like some religious ritual in the parking lot. And then I give the geode back to her when our date is over and she drops me off at my place.

To be clear, Sunset’s geode doesn’t give me any powers when I wear it.

The actual necklace is lighter than a penny. I hardly notice it when I’m wearing it. It’s just very…red. The geode is bright red, while most of my clothes are in what Rarity would describe as “earth tones.” (That’s what she said when we went on a double date with her and Applejack.)

It’s like there’s me, and then there’s Sunset's geode.

Sometimes it makes me feel proud. Like I get to hold on to a very special part of her.

Or sometimes, when she’s grabbing my wrist and pulling me towards this shop she wants to go to, it makes me feel like I belong to her. And her geode, shackled around my neck, is her way of marking me as hers.

But if I rationally weigh out everything, overall, I like that Sunset takes off her geode for me.

We hug and kiss and hold hands and do all the things that normal couples do.

She asks me, verbally, how are you. How are you feeling. What’s on your mind.

And I speak my mind. With words.

Sunset only does this for me. She doesn’t take off her geode for any of her friends at school, or in her band. Or even for acquaintances that might not trust her as much.

It’s considerate of her to take off her geode for me.

Considerate? I hate that word.

Who says that their girlfriend is the most considerate person they’ve ever met? No one.

I don’t want her to just be considerate.

Considerate is something you would call a helper.

Sunset’s not my helper. I’m not a kid anymore.

(But I still use training wheels.)

Before our date today, I decide to give the geode back to Sunset.

"No, I want you to wear it," I say to her. "We’ve been going out for three months already. If your casual friends are able to trust you with your mind-reading powers, why should I, your girlfriend of three months, not trust you?"

"Are you sure?" Sunset says. "You know don’t have to do this, Wallflower. I'm totally fine with taking off my geode for you. It doesn't bother me at all."

"Yes. I’m sure. Keep it on. Let’s try it out for one date."

"Okay. If it makes you happy." She puts it back on.

If it makes me feel happy!? This is supposed to make me feel happy!? I don’t say that out loud to Sunset.

I’m feeling really good right now, actually. Rose, Derpy, and I in the Garden Club finally got the hydroponics system set up in the old art classroom. So now we can grow plants year-round, even right now in the dead of winter. We’re starting out simple, with lettuce and arugula. If that works well, we might try strawberries in a few months.

Red. Red strawberries.

Red, like the geode of telepathy.

The one that’s around Sunset’s neck right now.

Active. Glowing.

In use.

Mental note for next Garden Club meeting: never mind about the strawberries, actually.

I’m feeling so good that I just have to make my day worse by doing something stupid.

Because I’m a glutton for punishment like that.

Was it a stupid decision?

People make stupid decisions in the middle of the night, when they’re high or on booze. And this was 5pm on Friday afternoon, in the school parking lot, a strictly no-alcohol zone.

So maybe it wasn’t stupid.

We walk to the car, without holding hands. We’ve done this walk so many times before, but this time the walk feels like it’s taking an eternity.

Sunset’s smiling.

"I’m happy to see you, Wally," she says. "It sucks that we don’t have any classes together, and I didn’t even see you in the hallway today."

I find myself starting at Sunset’s hands, hidden under her golden-colored mittens. Or her geode necklace, backdropped by her pale blue blouse.

I forgot how well the geode complemented her body and her wardrobe.

It’s meant to be hers. And hers only.

And I took it away from her. These past three months’ worth of dates.

(Mommy, I should give the training wheels away. I should give them away to someone who deserves them more.)

Still walking to the car.

Either we’re walking more slowly, or my thoughts have become stretched out.

Tonight is Sunset’s turn to drive. It’s snowed at least five inches today, and the road is filled with patches of salt-encrusted ice.

How does she know that I hate driving at night in the icy weather? Did I ever tell that? I don’t think I did.

Did she listen to my thoughts?

We’re not touching. Can she still tell what I’m thinking without touching my flesh? Is that possible?

What if I ask her?

What if I ask her, "What am I thinking right now, Sunset?"

And she’ll say, "About pink frosted cupcakes?"

And I’ll say, "Wrong!"

Though she could just be lying that she doesn’t know what I’m thinking, when in actual fact she knows every bit of what I’m thinking from half a mile away, and I can’t read her thoughts so how would I know that that’s false?

I’m paranoid.

I’m very paranoid.

If I want to learn to live with Sunset and her geode, I’m going to have to learn to trust her, right?

Do I trust Sunset? Yes. I do trust her. She’s driving me in her car right now, and we’re crossing the 1 mile long Wondercolt River bridge into the city. And I trust that Sunset isn’t going to pull over in the middle of the bridge, drag me out of the car, and push me over the railing to my death.

I trust her not to do that.

(Baby steps.)

(But I can’t take baby steps on a bike. If I take baby steps I go too slowly, and then I fall.)

It’s a drop of about 30 feet into a deep river. Not enough to kill you on impact, but a few people who jump drown or die from hypothermia.

Don’t ask me why I know that.

Sunset and I have been to this bridge a few times. The first time was when she watched me from behind while I threw the fragments of the destroyed Memory Stone into the river.

And after I did the deed, I looked behind my shoulder, and I saw her with that red geode around her neck, and I just remember realizing how beautiful she was.

A month later, I got the courage to ask her out.

I’m still surprised she said yes. Without much hesitation. She really has those kind of feelings for me? Possibly the most popular girl in Canterlot High, has those kind of feelings for me? Or maybe, she anticipated from reading my prior thoughts that I would eventually ask her out? And she simply rehearsed how to say yes to me, replicating the most precise intonation of sincerity?

No, Sunset’s not a good actor. I’m playing Ophelia in the upcoming school play, while she works in stagecraft.

Or, maybe she’s just pretending to be a not-good actor for me.

I’m paranoid.

Maybe she’s just been pandering to my ego to make me feel better after the whole Memory Stone saga. She’s pretending to love me to make me feel better. As part of my…rehabilitation.

You see, Sunset knows objectively that I love her. By reading my thoughts.

But how do I objectively know that she loves me back?

Then again, virtually no couple on this planet does know objectively. They simply infer love. By mannerisms, by actions, by words, by touch. And that’s a sufficient proof of love for them.

But somehow, Sunset’s magical powers raises the standard for love.

…

How do I know?

I’m paranoid.

I’m very paranoid.

Sunset takes me to one of her favorite restaurants: the vegan place on Bridleway Ave. that serves tempeh fried rice, tofu quiche, and banana fritters. Except I know Sunset won’t eat the banana fritters, because she doesn’t like bananas.

I remember that because I was at Sunset’s house once, and she got one of those farmer’s market subscription boxes, where they send you a surprise box of assorted local produce every week. And she made this really dorky face of disgust when she saw the greenhouse-cultivated bananas in there. And it was hilarious, because I don’t think I’d ever seen her look so goofy. It was like a month into our relationship, and I felt like I’d unlocked another side of Sunset that not many people get to see.

That’s why I’ll always remember that Sunset doesn’t like bananas.

Sunset and I walk into the vegan restaurant on a Friday night, but we’re still able to get a nice table by the window, with a mini-infrared heater under the windowsill.

I find myself staring at Sunset’s hands during dinner. Silently guesstimating the distance between her fingers and my wrist.

I’m staring so much that Sunset says, "Oh yeah, I have something called Raynaud’s disease. So when the weather gets cold my fingers turn blue like this sometimes. Actually, back in Equestria, I hated the cold. Kinda interesting how that translated to this when I moved to the human world. Heh."

That’s not it.

That’s not it, Sunset.

Sunset still smiles at me.

"You’re doing great, Wallflower," she tells me.

(That’s what Mommy said when I took a few baby steps without the training wheels. Just before I fell.)

But that’s fine I guess. My tofu quiche is delicious. The waiter is nice. Sunset laughs at a few of my jokes.

I let Sunset pay for our meal. Every other Friday is her payday at the sushi place, and so she’ll always insist on paying. I know that by Sunset’s standards, $40 isn’t a lot (I saw her pay $10 for coffee once), but I guess for a cheapskate like me that’s a fine dining price. I’m not sure what kind of caliber of food they served at the fancy magic school she went to in Equestria.

After dinner, Sunset drives us to the movie theater.

Sunset wants to see the Carnivorous Plants of Tenochtitlan Basin movie. It’s really supposed to be a documentary, but they take so much artistic license with their plant taxonomies that I call it a movie. I’ve seen the first movie in the series, Trees of the Everfree, and I don’t like that movie. But I don’t tell Sunset that.

At the popcorn stand, we touch hands a few times.

A little brush here, a little brush there, as we walk up to the butter dispenser.

I feel a rush of adrenaline as her skin comes into contact with mine.

Sunset barely flinches. She says, "Oh. You don’t like that movie? I didn’t know. Well, we can watch something else."

You know why I don’t like Trees of the Everfree? I’ll tell you, but I won’t tell Sunset. If she really wants to know, she can grab my arm and invade my brain again for all I care.

Trees of the Everfree used to be my favorite movie, a year back. Around the time I had first found the Memory Stone.

Did you know that the Everfree Mountains was cleared about 1000 years ago by the indigenous peoples for lumber and grazing? Or, that most of the forest in the Everfree Mountains is actually artificial forest, planted by a botanist three centuries ago in an attempt to reduce erosion of the hillside?

During my free period, I would sneak into the lecture hall and play the movie on the big projector in there. No one else would join. I was only one in the school that liked the movie. I was the only one that had even heard of it. I’d touch the empty seat on both sides of me. I could barely reach them.

The seats were wide. And my arms were small.

And then, one day, Sunset Shimmer learned about the movie from one of her friends, Fluttershy. And Sunset liked it. And then because Sunset is popular and everyone listens to her, all of a sudden everyone liked the movie. They took a day off in biology class to screen the movie in a packed lecture hall.

But no mention of me. No one talked to me about the movie. No one asked me what I thought of it. ~~I think it’s an incredible testament to humans’ impact on natural ecosystems, even in pre-industrial times. There is a frequent misconception that humans and nature are two distinct entities, when in fact they are very much intertwined.~~ No one cared what I thought of it.

Sunset stole my movie. And then continued to ignore me like she had always done.

So then I made them all forget about the movie with the Memory Stone.

So then it was me again. Alone in the lecture hall.

The way it was before Sunset Shimmer ruined it.

The way it—

"Wallflower, are you okay? I asked you, what movie do you wanna watch instead?"

Sunset’s voice jolts me out of my daze. We’re still standing in the lobby of the movie theater.

I say, "You pick."

"Oh. Well, erm…the Carnivorous Plants movie was the one that I was really intending on watching. But what would you rather watch instead?"

"You pick."

"I know I should’ve talked to you about it, Wallflower. I’m sorry. Are you sure there isn’t some other movie you want to watch? Or maybe something else you wanna do?"

"You pick."

It’s all that I can say without yelling at her in public.

We watch some romantic comedy playing in the screen next door. I don’t remember the name. We’re the only ones in the movie theater cause it’s already been released for a month or something.

We leave the movie theater. As the door opens, a cold breeze blows into my face. An excuse for me to pull my arms close to my chest and walk at a distance from her.

Far enough that I can’t see her sparkly little geode around her neck.

(Mommy you were right. I thought you were wrong but you are right.)

(I’m different. And because I’m different I’ll never ride without training wheels ever again. And I’ll—

At that moment I slip on an icy patch in the movie theater parking lot.

Damn. I knew this would happen.

"Oh! Are you okay, Wally?" Sunset says.

She stretches her hand out. "Here, I’ll help you up."

I can see the shiny point of red light from her geode. The reflection from the streetlight.

Shining brighter in the night than the rest of her face.

I try to get up by myself.

I slip again.

Sunset doesn’t reach her hand out this time. "It’s okay, Wally," Sunset says. "You don’t have to do this, you know. I know how difficult this must be for you. I can take off my geode and then I can help you up. Simple."

Something about her smile makes me sick.

It’s the same smile Mommy had when she put back on my training wheels after I fell.

My bum is sore from slipping on the ice. But I’ll take a sore bum.

I’ll take a million sore bums over a single hand hold from her.

I’ll never let her hand touch me.

Never never never never.

I try to get up again. I slip again.

Two sore bums, and counting.

I thought I scooted away from the icy spot.

Maybe I remembered wrongly.

Did Sunset make me remember wrongly? No, she doesn’t have that kind of magic.

But I did.

I did.

Now I don’t.

"Wallflower," she says, "I accidentally listen to random people’s secrets all the time. You can trust me that I’m not going to share everything—"

Maybe she’s right. If I can’t trust my girlfriend, who can I trust? But

It’s not about that!

"Why did you take it away from me? Hmm!? Why, Sunset, why!? You get to keep your magic, but I didn’t. How is that fair!? I was just like you! I was your equal! I had magic!"

"Wallflower, you did something terrible with your magic. I did—"

"Well you did too!"

A pause.

Sunset fumbles with the clasp on the back of her geode. She lets the chain cascade onto the pavement.

"Take it, Wallflower. Put it on. Then I’ll pull you up. This isn’t worth ending our relationship over."

"I don’t want your necklace!"

"Wallflower—"

I cross my arms.

(Mommy I hate you.)

(And I’m gonna sit here and not come out of my room.)

"I can’t trust you," I say.

"Why—"

"I just can’t, okay?"

"Okay."

…

(I’m never gonna try to ride a bike again, Mommy.)

(Never.) Never never never.

I want to live to see the day where we go to a bridge.

We go to a bridge, and instead of putting a love lock on the railing like most couples do, ~~or jumping off of it, holding each other in a passionate embrace and our limp bodies fall fated to the icy blue depths of the half-frozen river,~~ she’ll take off her geode, and toss it over the railing and into the river.

She’s gotta give up her magic. Just like I did. Forever. That’s the only way this relationship will go on.

~~Or maybe I will push her off the bridge. Her geode along with it.~~

~~but then ill miss her real real real bad~~

Relationships should be fair, right?

Then how is this fair?

Everything I say, she can objectively tell if I’m lying or not. She, on the other hand—she could tell a million lies and I’d never be any the wiser.

But you know what would make things fair?

If I still had the Memory Stone.

I have the Memory Stone, and Sunset has her geode. We each have one magical trinket.

If she read my mind or tried to listen in on my secrets, even by accident, I could erase it from her with the Memory Stone.

Taken. Erased. Taken. Erased.

Perfectly balanced. As all things should be.

It could be a perfectly amicable arrangement. She’ll be able to touch me freely with her geode, on the condition that I can erase any memory I deem that she shouldn’t have had access to. In exchange, I promise to only erase the most pertinent of memories, leaving the rest fully intact.

We could even sign a written contract or something. And frame it up like a certificate of achievement.

But that will never happen.

Because now it’s not fair anymore. Because she took away my magic from me. She and her…

…friends.

Sunset thinks she knows everything about me just because she can read my thoughts.

The moments sitting alone in the lecture hall, watching the movie that Sunset stole from me.

The long, lonely lunches in cafeteria.

Where 20 minutes felt like 20 hours.

That zing of hope when I first found the Memory Stone.

No matter how realistic Sunset’s so-called “telepathic energy” is, I’m the one who experienced all that. No one else but me.

Because guess what? I was the one who sat in that chair. I was the one who felt the cold metal of a locker door pressing against my back. I touched, with my own fingers, the chair cushions of the empty chairs next to mine.

I’m the only one who deserves to feel those things. I worked for them. I sat in that chair. I felt those tears streaming down my cheeks. That counts as work. I earned those feelings.

Sunset can just fast-forward through those long hours and get to the juicy bits.

Oh, how convenient for her.

It’s not about the geode. I don’t wanna wear her crummy necklace that clashes with everything else I wear. I never wanted her geode.

How does Sunset not get it? How does she not get that it’s not about the geode?

Even after she’s touched my arm and probably listened to everything my memory has to give?

…

That makes me feel better, actually.

In weird way.

Knowing that there’s still a part of my thoughts that will always be my own.

Tuesday. Finally time to roll out of my bed and go to school. I’m not calling in sick like I did on Monday.

I’m not sick.

At the cafeteria, I sit at the same table that I used to sit alone at. Except this time Roseluck comes to sit with me. Derpy and Treehugger also come sometimes. Though today just Roseluck. I think the others had to stay late for a make-up test or something.

Roseluck sets down her tray across from me. "Hey Wallflower, how was your weekend? Oh, you know you forgot to set the timer on the hydroponic pump last Friday."

"Oh."

"So I set it for you."

"I see."

"Wallflower, what’s wrong?"

Roseluck is quite beautiful. Her eyes sparkle with a rare shade of emerald green. And sometimes when we’re gardening outside and she smiles in a specific angle relative to the orangey sunlight, she looks almost as radiant as Sunset. Roseluck is bisexual. We share a lot of things in common: gardening, for one, and a general affinity for plants.

(Roseluck doesn’t know how to ride a bike either. Her mom was like mine.)

If I’m on the left column, and Roseluck is on the right column, we should line up perfectly. We should be a perfect match.

But I don’t love her.

Not like I love Sunset.

Why is the person you fall in love with almost never the perfect match?

Or, even worse, it’s the one person in this universe that threatens your sanity the most?

The one in a billion magical pony-turned-human with mind-reading powers?

Why is Cupid so cruel?

It’s silent for a while. But then I ask Roseluck, "Rose, what if you knew me back when I had the Memory Stone? Would you have still been my friend?"

"You mean back when you still had the power to just…erase people’s memories?"

"Yeah. If I had magic. Would you be friends with me if I had magic?"

"Well, I’d like to think that you’d be the same kind person that I know today. Everyone can have power. It’s whether they use it for good or evil that makes a difference."

"What if I erased your memory? Say…you experienced a highly traumatic event that was torturing you psychologically. And I did you a favor by making you forget it? While you were asleep, or something?"

"Well…I would be mad. I’d be mad because you just erased my memory without my permission. But I wouldn’t hate you for it. You were trying to make me happier. Your intention wasn’t evil."

"You’d still be friends with me?"

"Well, put it this way. If you apologized to me, I’d eventually forgive you."

Sunset and I kissed a few times. While I was wearing the necklace.

She paws at my arm, with her hand.

Like she grabs it,

My arm,

And she squeezes it.

Her hands are colder than I imagined them to be.

Not cold. Sweaty.

Is she nervous?

Maybe she’s as nervous as I am.

She paws at my arm. She paws at my hair.

And I remember thinking, this must be what all normal couples in love do. Kissing. Hugging. Touching. Date night. Go to dinner, see a show, come home, kiss, touch, stay overnight. It felt so normal.

Sunset made me feel normal.

That’s when I really fell in love with her.

Her, without her geode on.

Maybe, maybe I fell in love with a different person.

The geode-less Sunset.

Would Sunset’s kiss have felt the same if she wore the geode? Would it have felt better? Worse?

I don’t know.

A smirk creeps up my face.

But I wouldn’t mind discovering the answer to that question myself.

Afterschool, I find Sunset sitting on the floor outside music practice room #3, basement level of the arts building. She’s listening to music on her headphones with her laptop open.

I knew she’d be there. She always has band practice on Tuesday. Even when she doesn’t have band practice (Mondays and Fridays), she likes to sit by that door sometimes afterschool, in the empty hallway.

She’s slipped off her fashion sneakers and is wearing only socks. And I know that she hates wearing shoes more than she has to, because apparently in Equestria they rarely wore them. She’s wiggling her toes somewhat playfully, and humming softly. She can’t be too sad.

Sunset sees me. She opens up an ear.

"Don’t you have Rainbooms practice today, Sunset?"

"No, it got cancelled. Rainbow Dash had…she had something to go to, I think, so we just, erm…kind of cancelled."

"Oh. Okay."

"Yeah."

"Wallflower, I’m sorry. I…"

"I just have one question for you, Sunset."

"What is it?"

"Did you like it?"

"Like what?" She doesn’t know what I’m talking about.

"Did you like the movie? The Trees of the Everfree movie?"

"I did. It reminded me a lot of Equestria. Back there, we ponies controlled nature. The pegasi directly controlled the weather, the earth ponies used their magic to grow crops faster. And I kinda missed that. It’s nice to know when the rain’s going to come exactly. Heh. And at first, I thought that creating 'artificial nature' was such a foreign concept to this world. That is, until I watched that movie."

"Why…why didn’t you ever talk to me about it? Why didn’t you tell me all of this?"

"I wanted to. Back then, I…I knew about your garden and all that. I thought maybe you’d be interested in what I had to say. But…I was too afraid to talk to you."

"Afraid of me? Why?"

"I…you weren’t in the band. Back then, you were a total stranger to me—I didn’t know how you’d react to me suddenly coming up to you and talking about being a magical pony from another dimension. It freaks people out sometimes."

"You knew I wouldn’t have judged you—"

"Well I didn’t know that, and I didn’t want to take the risk!"

Sunset’s sitting on the floor, looking up at me as I stand before her, looking down. She feels small. She feels pathetic. She regrets not taking that risk back then and talking to me. I can tell. She has that tinge of regret in her eyes.

It’s almost like I'm reading her mind.

And I don’t even have any magical powers.

"Wallflower, at the time I was still trying to set myself straight after turning into a demon and blasting a hole through the school. It was still fresh in everyone’s minds. I know it’s no excuse, but I…I was learning too. Learning from my mistakes."

She’s clutching her geode in her right hand, and pulling down on the necklace chain gently. She does that when she’s nervous.

I chuckle quietly. "Then perhaps we’re more alike than we think."

"Yeah. Perhaps."

…

"Wallflower, do you want to listen? I’ve been listening to the rough cut for our band’s song, and I think it could use a fresh set of ears."

I sit on the floor beside her. It’s kind of awkward to share headphones. But she figures it out. She keeps the headphones on her head, but flips an ear to face the outside. I lean in and listen through the flipped ear.

We both flinch at the little sound glitch from Rainbow Dash stepping on the electric guitar wiring.

We listen to the melody. The harmony. The same sounds piped into our heads.

I laugh at Twilight’s unfortunate voice crack in take 7. And Sunset laughs too. I share the laughter with her. I share with her. And she shares back.

I hold out my hand.

She grabs it completely. The fingers wrapping all the way around.

No spark. No funny magical tingling.

Normal warmth.

Even with Sunset's magic powers, there’s no way for either of us to know for sure what the future holds. How much we’ll change. How much we’ll grow.

It’s something we’ll discover and stumble through together.

We stand up, walk all the way down the hall, up the stairs, out the door, across the parking lot.

Hand in hand.

(Mommy, I did it. I’m not taking baby steps anymore. I’m pushing forward. Full speed ahead. Without training wheels. Down the road, round the block, past Mrs. Meriwether’s house, and all the way back.)

(And I’m not falling.)

Author's Note

I'm back~! Damn, it feels so good to finally publish something after so long!!! :rainbowwild: Hope this wasn't too emo, LOL.

P.S. This is only tangentially related, but I learned to ride a bike twice. First time was when I was 7. I had just taken off the training wheels, I was biking on the sidewalk, and I almost collided into a wall next to the sidewalk. No collision actually occurred, but I essentially passed out from pure shock. The next few minutes were a total blur. Forgot how to ride a bike after that. Didn’t relearn until two years later when I was 9. Also, today I learned training wheels are an obsolete method for teaching people to ride a bike!?