OF SCARS AND SCABS

          Not long ago I watched a boy that had to be no older than 5 attempt to ride a bike. The ordeal was pretty brutal if I must say so myself, but it was also an amazing display of perseverance. I can't tell you where his father was (or if he had one for that matter) and his mother was obviously far too occupied with her love life to chase him up the street. So here he was, not yet old enough to cross the street and teaching himself to ride a two wheeler. Sure I started to help him, but decided against it. See... He was one of the neighborhood kids and I'd seen him run up and down the block alone for the past year or so prior to this day. I understood his life would be one in which most of his learning would be done in solitude. I simply lit a cigarette, put on my headphones, opened my notebook, and watched him from the lawn. Sure I would help him if it was needed, but I would grant him his independence as long as it was safe to do so.

           His start was a rough one. He was obviously nervous as he kicked himself to a slow coast. The first attempt was cut short by an utter lack of patience as he struggled to place his feet on the pedals. BAM!!! His left elbow as well as his left knee would pay the price for his miscalculation. He briefly nursed his fresh wounds and was back at it. After a few more tries (each one yielding a slightly better result) his right hand absorbed the full impact of yet another fall. He brushed off the debris, examined his wound, wiped the blood on his dingy white t-shirt and climbed back on the bike. This time he placed his bet on the slight incline of a neighboring driveway. Almost certain of a bad outcome, I dropped my notebook and Ipod and stepped out onto the sidewalk. Upon take-off his face instantly filled with regret. It was obvious he wasn't prepared for the added speed of the downhill slope, yet he was completely focused as he steadied his wobble and placed his feet on the pedals. Realizing he was heading for the street, I jogged toward him in vain because I was absolutely positive I wouldn't catch him in time.  "Hey!" I yelled to him, hoping he would be startled enough to place his feet on the ground. He kept his eyes straight, for he knew as well as I that it was a now or never situation. "Hey Lil Cuzz!" I yelled again. He began pedaling. My heart sank as he made a b-line for the street which I was in no position to interfere with. "Ayyyyyyyyyy!" I yelled once again. This time he looked in my direction, leaned almost instinctively, turned, and pedaled up the sidewalk. He smiled from ear to ear as he blew past me. Even though I had only seen him in passing up to this point, I was probably as proud as he was. He was riding his first bike, and he'd taught himself. Our moment ended abruptly when he reached the corner and took his hardest fall yet. He yelled in agony as his tiny body tangled in the bike frame. After a few seconds he struggled back to his feet, picked up his bike, and slowly walked it toward his house. His battered right knee peeked through a newly ripped hole in his jeans. As he limped by I could literally feel his sense of accomplishment. "You done little cuzz?" I asked. "Nah..." he replied "Imma let my knees and stuff get better, cause I can ride now. I just gotta learn to ride farther. Imma be back tomorrow." I smiled and silently nodded my approval. He slowly wheeled his bike to the end of the block and disappeared around the corner.
             
            It was funny to me. Not seeing him fall, but hearing this 5 year old exhibit a degree of common sense that his mother and countless other adults lost a long time ago. He now understood the ins and outs of riding a bike. He also understood that his scrapes and bruises were a price paid in the name of accomplishing his goal.  His most important lesson however, was the realization that it would be wise to allow his pain to subside and his wounds to heal before subjecting himself to more unnecessary injury only to learn a process which he had already grasped.  Yes... He was bruised, but far from broken... And he would be back tomorrow after some much needed rest on his quest to master his latest challenge.

           His mother on the other hand, lacked any inkling of common sense where her child had managed to excel. She was too occupied with fist fighting over boyfriend number "Lord knows how many" to fully understand why this process had continued most of her adult life. Meet a man, buy a dream, fall in love with the idea of being in love, only to once again find herself alone and more often than not, with less than she started with. It was a vicious cycle from which she had yet to emerge with the upper hand. With each completion of this tragic loop she sought to place blame. If it wasn't her kids that drove  him off, it was her family, or her weight, or she wasn't pretty enough, or he was just no damn good. Her blame placing however, never lasted more than a couple of weeks due to the fact that for every duffel-bag on the front porch which signaled one boyfriend's departure was another on the back porch signaling yet another man's arrival. And that was her life... Everything on Earth came second to pursuing the ghost of love which she had made the focus of her life, yet had never known and never would, until she could fully appreciate and understand the logic of her 5 year old son.

           Of course this scenario is all too familiar. If it's not you, it's someone close to you. The truth is... More than a few of us (women especially)  feel incomplete unless we have someone to be with. These feelings produce the urge to involve ourselves in new relationships almost immediately after ending old ones. And in a lot of cases we start new relationships while in the midst of current relationships only to transition once the current situation goes sour. All the while we feign happiness for those around us and even attempt to convince ourselves to no avail. This behavior often continues for years on end, (and in come cases life) and ultimately leaves us with a bitter taste as well as an unfilled void after the failed relationships.  There's always something missing which we often assume is love. Where we've actually failed is often not the relationship, but healing.

         And this is where the 5 year old's logic should have but often fails to kick in. We've all been hurt at some point in life, and emotional scars run far deeper than those of the physical nature. Those of us who know no better are doomed to spend life running from the idea of being alone long enough to face our first heartbreak and allow our emotional wounds to fully heal. Whereas the little boy acknowledged his pain, accepted his lesson, and left bruised only to ride another day. We as adults make a habit of ignoring our hurt and making the same mistakes until we find ourselves broken and attempting to pick up the pieces.  All the while piling scar upon scar on our already damaged hearts. Our favorite question tends to be "where did I go wrong", and our next course of action is attempting to re-evaluate the failed relationship for answers which we more than likely will never find because the initial hurt has usually taken place many relationships ago. The sooner we understand this and actually take the time we need to heal, the better our chances of breaking the painful cycle. Sometimes... When when its all said and done... All we really need to do is get off the bike, let our knees get better, and ride tomorrow. So we can, as the 5 year old said "Learn to ride further..."

                        AND THAT'S JUST THE WAY I SEE IT....