*UPDATE* Hey, my wife nominated this post for a Perfect Post and I guess it got through. Thats pretty cool, though I won’t hold my breath for the prize money.Benticore
Out

*Now Playing: John Mayer - Daughters*

Out before us stretches the empty, wind-blasted landscape. Dust devils haunt the sun-baked black tar road, chasing each other into the brown shrubs and rock piles that stretch out into the horizon. The only color is the bright, angry blue of the sky, a rude imposition on the brown-scale that heat, and wind, and dust create and layer on the world. My hand is on the back edge of the seat, ready to push the tricycle.The gentle hip of the hill lies far beneath us. Right before our feet though the road dips, a dizzying drop carved out of the earth that will send you, whooping with delight, towards that too-distant horizon where the blue and the brown halves of the world awkwardly meet.You look back towards me, your eyes crinkling. You wonder why I haven’t pushed.

Once I push, you will be out of my hands, your momentum carrying you down the parched tar pathway, chasing the dust devils and the heat, towards the horizon. You will be out of my reach. I won’t be able to correct your orientation, or slow your speed. You will relish every moment of it, even if you veer towards that Kyanean-like boulder that keeps catching my eye.

But this is your moment, this is your chance to ride and whoop and holler and feel fear and joy. Eventually, it will be your right.

My prayer isn’t for you. I mumble incoherent words for Me, for my heart, weak as it is, to find the strength to watch you weave and ride, steer and cruise down this hill, rubber on tar, sweat in the brow, until you’ve found your own path. I ask for the strength to push and the wisdom to know when to correct your angle, slow your speed, offer timely advice, and when to simply just let you ride.

I still have a few moments, with the wind and the sun, the dust and you, looking at me, a puzzled smile on your face. Is it time to push, daddy?

Not yet. I’m still praying.