Months ago, I can’t remember if it was spring or even summer, I was coming home from a bike ride. When arriving from the south or west I typically cut through some bike paths from the local library, through the ball fields and promptly arrive on my street, McIntosh Avenue.
On this particular ride I noticed that my next door neighbor was riding home, presumably from the park or library, with his three children. He has two girls and a little boy, the boy being the youngest of the three. We all exited the bike path and came onto our street together. The little boy, who is roughly kindergarten age, began pedaling furiously, looking over his shoulder. I made a “valiant” attempt to catch him, but who am I to think that I could overtake the enthusiasm of a kindergartner. He beat me to our house and was smiling from ear to ear.
Fast forward to two days ago. I walked out of the house to check on the mail late in the afternoon. The little boy and his sister were out front on their bikes, as they often are. As I made my way to the mailbox I shouted “Hi!” and got the most unexpected response.
“I totally beat you on the bike that day!” he said to me. I had to quickly try to think what he was referencing. And then it came back to me, the day months ago when we made our way down the street together. The simple action of racing him home and him having great success in defeating the old man had made quite an impact on him. I picked up the mail and headed back into the house conversing with him and his sister.
As I made my way to the front door I could continue hear him saying, “Yeah, I totally beat you that day. I totally beat you!”