An Unsteady Bike (A Personal Essay)
6:12 PMI have been wanting to write about this for a while, and I came up with this creative writing piece that ended up being a sort of healing process for myself. It stirred a lot of emotions in me and in the people in my immediate circle who I shared it with, so I thought I would share it with you all :) (I took out the names and the people I wrote about gave me permission to publish).
I woke up at 6 am purely by instinct on the morning of my last birthday. I am known for sleeping in, especially on summer days when responsibilities are few and laziness is an option. I reached over to my night stand to pick up my phone wondering if Facebook birthday posts were starting to flood my notifications. What I saw were many posts and messages from my closest friends. What I read was not what I expected.
I ran to my parents room; I was staying with them for the summer while I was home. My dad wished me a happy birthday and I instantly said, “Dad, I need you to drive me to the hospital right now.”
This particular birthday got me thinking about my 10th birthday, which also brought a bit of a surprise. My mom arranged for a birthday party at theme park on the beach, with roller coasters and ice cream and everything that my ten-year-old heart desired. Her minivan was parading the rest of my guests, one of them being by best friend, riding in the back of her dad’s Ford Explorer. We set up a grill, showed off some cartwheels, and took advantage of our Unlimited Ride bracelets. Later in the day, my friend and her dad went to pick up something from the back of their car. When they came back, they were steering the most beautiful purple bike I had ever seen towards me. It had sparkly ribbons hanging from the handles, pink pedals, and no training wheels. For the rest of the day her and her dad were teaching me how to ride a bike for the first time. They would hold the bike, push it forward and cheer on me until I couldn’t balance anymore and had to put my feet down to stop myself from falling over.
I don’t remember a birthday that I haven’t spent with her to this day—not my 15th when we visited New York City for the first time together, or my 13th when we stayed in her aunt’s condo in Puerto Vallarta, or my 6th when my mom rented out an inflatable bouncy house and put it on my grandparents back yard.
On this birthday, I was running over to the hospital because my best friend’s boyfriend had just flown across the windshield of his friend’s car; he had actualized every mother’s worst nightmare and had fallen victim to a drunk man’s carelessness. He had lost a lot of blood and was being kept in the trauma center of the hospital where his dad worked. They needed blood donors. Clean blood that would complement his, and mine was a match. When I walked into the waiting room I saw my friend sitting on a couch looking frail and pale. Her characteristically slim bones looked weaker and thinner, it seemed as if there was only a strand of thread holding all of her tender parts together. Shock defined her gaze, there was little that could be said to console her.
I watched patiently as my blood left my bloodstream, waiting for the moment when I could tell him that there would forever be a part of me running through his veins. I thought that was pretty cool, in an eerie way. I was celebrating another year of my life with the only hope that he would too. I left the donation room and sat with my friend. I felt the need to be extremely optimistic, I think we all did.
I took her home and lay in bed with her. Her back was towards me, and as we both laid there in silence I could hear her throat draw to a close, her lungs cramp and her tear ducts fill to the brim. Her shoulders moved with the rest of her body, and her head shook in disbelief.
She had always been the leader of our friend group. The smart, witty, authoritative part of the pack that served as the glue that kept us together. She usually is the strong one, she holds a stern attitude towards enemies or anyone who tries to mess with someone that she loves. Confident, reserved, particular. I considered her a protector when I was little; there’s not much that I would do without her. Yet today I was reminded that leaders sometimes lose their direction. Her eyes didn’t know where to turn, and I had to assure her that her hand would be held along the way no matter the outcome.
We were banking on a couple of decades of friendship here. She and I held on together from the womb and into the wild. We moved to Europe after high school and discovered life and its disappointments hand in hand. We did develop individual personalities eventually, and we found new friends, and boyfriends, that complimented and respected our new identities.
We let each other grow and take on different paths. But when doubt would overcast our thoughts, when events would complicate our trajectories, when no one else would understand what was haunting us, we would come together and talk about it.
And here I was, hearing her weep. I was holding her hand making empty promises to replace fate, and the odds were hardly in our favor.
My birthday wasn’t a day of balloons and birthday wishes. I didn’t blow candles, or get serenaded by my father’s guitar. It was a day of lessons. Like that 10th birthday of mine, except it was my friend on that unsteady bike, and today it was my job to cheer her on, to push her forward until she could ride on her own.
After two weeks I was there next to her at the funeral. We were suddenly not kids anymore, we were dealing with adult situations, feelings that I thought we wouldn’t experience until we were dyeing our gray hairs. But it happened to my friend, therefore it had happened to me. Clasping her hand with mine, wiping my own tears with the other. My friend heard stories about her boyfriend as if they were distant memories, and I became aware that love is feeling other people’s feelings as if they were your own. Caring unconditionally is wishing you could change circumstances so your friends don’t ever have to hurt, or cry, or feel loss.
Now we’re far away again, living on opposite coasts. Every year on my birthday will lie an important reminder to value life and its fragility. But more importantly to value the people that make it so heartbreaking, and the people that stick around to make it a little less so.
5 comments
Maritza, you are so brave and resilient. I know it takes a lot to share a story like this, a story that defines who you are, a story that changes the way you view the world. I am immensely proud of you and I find myself so lucky to have a friend like you who is full of kindness. Thank you for sharing, and I hope you keep posting because your blogs are truly an inspiration. <3
ReplyDeleteThank you so much for leaving a comment. And thanks for all your kind words!!!! Identify yourself so I can give you a hug <3
DeleteYou already gave me over eleven hugs today and I appreciated each one <3
DeleteMy favorite: "But it happened to my friend, therefore it had happened to me." Definition of a friend.
ReplyDeleteMy favorite: "But it happened to my friend, therefore it had happened to me." Definition of a friend.
ReplyDelete