“Remorse is the echo of a lost virtue.” – Bulwer Lytton 

“A dusty pair of training wheels is an echo of growing up.” – Jeff Brown

The principal smiled and said, “I’d now like to present the class of 1988.” 

It’s hard for me to believe, but it’s been 20 years since I graduated from high school. For such an important day, it’s surprising how little I recall of it. I remember throwing my hat in the air. I remember getting my picture taken and talking to family and friends at my party, but that’s about it. 

Tassels changed sides. Life went on. 

Before I knew it I had a daughter. Ever since she was old enough to pedal, we’ve liked to ride bicycles. It’s one of the few things we still like to do together since she’s reached her teen years. My tool shed is cluttered with nearly every bike she’s ever had- the tiny one she rode with training wheels to the adult sized bike she rides now. I don’t have the heart to get rid of any of them. 

The other day when we were shopping, I saw a pair of bikes. They were parked in the glaring midday sun. The smaller one (it didn’t have a kickstand) leaned against the larger for support. They could easily be overlooked in all the hustle and bustle of the downtown street. But, there they were, easy enough to find, safely secured by the chain that connected them. 

Backpedal thirteen years. It was early morning and I was standing on my front step; two training wheels lay carelessly in the grass. “I took them off myself,” she said, proud eyes and little hands clutching a pair of pliers. 

Before I knew it, we were riding together. First down the street, then around the block, and eventually around the whole town. In the middle of life’s hustle and bustle people would stop and say, “There they go again- that father and daughter.” 

Spunky little girls don’t stay little forever. Time has a way of changing everything. My daughter has traded her Barbi for a cell phone, bike rides with her dad for dates with boys. Now she’ll be throwing her own graduation cap in the air. 

I can almost hear it now. “I’d like to present the class of 2008.” 

Tassels will change sides. Life will go on. 

I can tell my daughter is nearly ready to join the hustle and bustle of adult life. I have to learn to let go- unlock that chain that’s kept us together for so many years. It’s hard for me, some days more than others, but I have to remind myself… 

The bike she rides now has its own kickstand.