I’m beginning to learn that happiness is not necessarily about extravagant, traditionally significant things. Last week, I thought it would be a good idea to take my little boy’s bike to school. Barely out the gate, I realised this was going to be more awkward than I had anticipated. Leaning over the handlebars, having to continually re-direct the wheels, I pushed on, only because I had started, my daughter was chanting ‘follow the leader’ in front of me, and I couldn’t let go of my now clearly crazy notion.
Wheeling the bike across the playground, I was greeted by a group of mothers, all looking at me doing this ridiculous thing, and smiling. Usually, we all stand, some sharing small-talk, but most just staring at the school door, arms folded, face set with determination to get through this wait, and move on to the next. It’s a grim place to be, mostly. But today, because of the bike, and my quips about bringing it to school, they were all laughing. All of a sudden, I was glad I had done it. Maybe it was the only time some of them had laughed that day. Even if not, it made me feel good. It doesn’t take much to lift a day, and this day, it was all down to a red bicycle.