the detail of memory is a terrible thing.
my memory cannot be trusted. i have no recollection of the time, on sunday afternoon, that we were so happy to have a whole and happy family, and a destroyed rack full of destroyed bikes. i cannot recall the last time i saw so much splintered glass around my children, and wanted nothing but to keep the calm in their eyes, the sweat on their foreheads. i don't remember license plate numbers.
i remember, in vivid detail, on a snowy night in november of my grade ten year, my first kiss with a beautiful girl named meghan, in a snowbank, on the side of a highway, under ten million stars. it wasn't yet my birthday. i remember pushing jada, her on her bike, me running in first edition shimano mountain bike shoes, down a gravel path, while we hoped for the bee sting to not swell any more, wondering if we should just use the epi pen now. i remember the first ride on my first road bike. i remember my mom teaching me, in sweltering virginia summer and tapered jeans and white reeboks, how to ride a bike on karen lee's pink huffy. i remember missing my daughter's first independent pedal strokes in the park, and getting choked up when she rode up to me, yelling that she was riding. i remember all those times i persuaded women to love me, because i couldn't love myself. i remember losing all of my friends, at one time or another, and gaining them back when we all grew up and forgot the stupid shit. i remember being romantic, or at least, feeling like a romantic and acting accordingly. i remember bent metal and streetcar tracks and hit and runs and kneeling in the rain on parliament street. i remember driving to temagami to get my heart broken once and for all. i remember when my heart could be broken.
the carpet has been pulled out from under us, again. i asked her why this seems to happen to us, all of the time, every now and again, and with devastating consequences. she said it's for the same reason that we'll never win the lottery: we can handle it. after this many days and no bikes, you should see us arguing...