The Hourglass

Sixteen

I sleep later than usual on Sunday, worn out from my day with Adam. I'm ashamed to admit I'm a little out of shape from having a desk job. Yoga was good for keeping me flexible and my muscles toned, but it didn't do anything for cardio. 

I make a conscious decision to start going for walks every day until I can build up a tolerance for running. As much as I don't want to, I have decided to start today. The apartment complex where I live has a manmade pond with a fountain in the middle that attracts ducks and other birds. There's a sidewalk that goes all the way around it, and I have decided to start my walks here. 

I pull on the same white athletic sneakers from the day before. I need to go shopping, I remind myself. I head down the stairs and out of of my building, headphones in, music playing as I go over to the pond. I take in my surroundings, realizing how little time I spend out here. Just long enough to go to and from my car, really. 

I tend to be a recluse. I avoid my neighbors and the other people within our gated community. I feel anxiety creep into my chest at the thought of other people being at the pond for a morning walk or jog. As I approached, I saw a few people. A muscular male with cropped hair is running, possibly a few years older than me. He has headphones in. I remind myself I do, too, and relax a little. There's a family, too. A little boy and girl are riding their bicycles, which still have training wheels, and the parents are encouraging them as they go around the loop. There's a lady across the pond walking a golden retriever.

 Everyone appears to be doing their own thing. I try to push away my feelings of anxiety and begin walking. I glance ahead at the kids on the bicycles again. It reminds me of when I was young and first learned how to ride a bicycle.  I really only have two core memories about it. The first memory is of when I got the bike for my birthday. I wasn't sure how old I was, maybe five? It had training wheels, and I didn't need a lot of help, but my mom and dad were there to encourage me. Mom looked happy that day. She smiled, clapped, and cheered for me as I took off on my new bike down the street. They followed closely behind me, hand in hand, ready to be there for me if I needed it. I smiled at that memory of her and felt pain as I missed her. 

I thought about the other core bicycle memory I have. The day Dad said it was time to take off my training wheels. I wasn't sure how long I had been riding with the training wheels. Maybe a year, maybe not. He told me that now that I was comfortable, it was time to take things to the next level. He told me I should always challenge myself to do more and never become complacent. It was good to learn new things. 

Mom seemed nervous for me, but she was still smiling at me, encouraging me to listen to Dad. I could tell she was sad by her eyes, looking back now. As I continue observing the kids before me, I think about Adam. I wonder if he was ever taught how to ride a bike, and if so, if it was by his dad. 

I continue to walk, about halfway around the pond now. I'm feeling better about myself for doing this and am glad I've decided to start today. 

Shortly after I get back to the apartment, Dad calls. I find it a little strange since it isn't Thursday, and I hope nothing is wrong. "Hey, Dad," I answer. 

"Hey, Rose Bud," he starts. He sounds fine, I think. "I'm going to be cleaning out the garage today. The church is having a yard sale soon, and I thought it was a good excuse to get rid of some old things we don't use anymore. I was wondering if you'd want to help me so I don't accidentally get rid of something of yours that you want." 

"Oh," I say surprised. I can't remember the last time we went through the stuff in the garage. "Yeah, sure. I'll head over there soon." I tell him. 

"Thanks, Rosie. I appreciate it. I'll feed you for your efforts!" He says, laughing.