With No Hands

A place from your past or childhood, one that you’re fond of, is destroyed. Write it a memorial.

Oh humble law building… (You were a law building, right?)

A small rectangular building standing awkwardly on blacktop, I can’t quite imagine that parking lot without it.

To the building, I may have been just another kid on a sky blue 10-speed bike, but that building was my greatest triumph.


At first, I just rode past it on my way to Oak Knoll park or the library, but then, to kill time during a hot summer day, I just rode around the parking lot.

Then, and I don’t know what gave me the idea – perhaps it was the spirit of the office whispering to me – I began to practice cycling around just that building – with no hands on the handlebars.

At first, I was only able to ride with no hands down the long sides of the building, but with a lot of practice, I felt my way to the correct speed and tilt I should employ to make it all the way around.  Just once, at first, then multiple times.

All that remains of the physical building now is a whisper of the shadow it cast during this long summer days, and after some time, even that will fade from people’s collective memories. But in my mind it will remain, brown and mighty, as it helps me learn the value of practice and hard work.

With no hands.

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