this is her story

she stood there standing in the driveway. it was a breezy late afternoon. the sun haven't been fierce enough these days, defeated by the clouds who stormed its way to cover the sky. she look up and see the cloudy sky. despite loathing the clouds for not letting in the sun, for she is the sun seeker, she does love the breezy wind that comes with it. it calms her.

she took her racing bike. it was no longer hers, at least, she had no longer ride on it. her dad bought it in 1994. some 12 years ago. when she was 12. the racing bike that she had loved like her sibling. with all her heart. the racing bike that gave her the stamina to be a long distant runner some 10 years ago.

she got up on the bike and starts pedaling. the breezy wind turns into a friend's embrace, embracing her like they haven't met for a very long time. which is true. she haven't cycled for a long time. cycling was part of her life, few years back when she was still in school. she never was a professional cycler, but she took the initiative to learn all aspect of cycling on her own. becos during school breaks, she would cycle 5 to 6 km every single day. with her walkman on her waist and the earphones blasting R&B tunes, she would cycle everywhere. that was then.

she speed past a few boys who were gathering by a hill slope. she speed past some aunties gathering to catch up with the latest neighbourhood gossip. she speed past some girls who just meet up for a walk. then her thighs felt a bit strained from all the speeding. she pedalled slower. she let go of the handle, put her hands on her thighs and enjoyed the wind brushing on her face.

what joy she felt, having that rush again, in her body, in her heart. the same rush when she got the racing bike one fine day in 1994, then she test ride it around the neighbourhood with all the pride in the world. she hold the handles and it took her years back when she would walk the racing bike some 2 km to fix its punctured tyre. her baby. still healthy. but no longer her sibling. no longer her friend. becos she grew up. simply as that.

she reached home. she put the racing bike inside the house. she got into the car. a last gaze towards the neighbourhood. it was her last day there. after 6 years in that neighbourhood. she smiled as she whispers a silent goodbye to the trees, to the grass, to her house, to the road leading to her house, to the wind. there's no tears.

this time, she's not saddened with the end.

this time, she's just eager for the beginning.

this is her story. and it is true, not fiction.

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