We all remember the firsts, right? First kiss, the first time driving by yourself, first rollercoaster (that your Mom forced you to go on), first love, first real break-up.
When you are young you share a lot of those firsts with your parents. But because my dad lost his battle with cancer before I turned 10, I only have a few of those “firsts” that I can remember: tagging along with him at work, taking pictures, tossing the football around. But one memory that has always stood out in my mind was the day that I learned to ride a bike. It was one of the most exciting and terrifying ordeals of my young life!
So you can imagine my excitement when Isaac approached me this week wanting to take the training wheels off his own bike. So we did the usual things, riding up and down the sidewalk, learning to balance and trusting the bike. It was so much fun and Isaac really wore me out with his determination.
But the one thing that I didn’t expect as I was experiencing this “first” moment with Isaac, is that I had a very strong connection to my dad at the same time. I could feel what he must have felt, as he was running along side me so long ago. We were connected over space and time through something that he had experienced with me and something that he had experienced with his own father.
And in that very simple moment he was there with me. Cheering for me and Isaac as we go spinning down the sidewalk.