This time I looked at her and said, “I know you are wondering if I remember when you learned to ride your bike.” I did not wait for her to confirm. Instead I confidently went on to say, “It was at our house in Louisville, KY, when your mom and I were pushing your bike and holding onto you as you sat on your cute pink bike.”
I have to confess, the pink part was a safe guess as Raka’s favorite colors those days were pink, purple, silver, and gold. I went on, “You looked back at us constantly as if you did not trust your mom or me. Then you were gone. You did not even realize when you had slipped out our hands and started riding the bike on your own, down the driveway, then into the neighbor’s yard.” Wow, I could remember her expression that night so many years ago when she got back from her short ride. She was proud.
Raka interrupted me and said, “Nope. I learned how to ride my bike in Denver.”
I was perplexed. How could I get this wrong, my memory was so vivid? Then Raka helped me with the clarification, “In Louisville, I learned how to ride with the training wheels on. The real bike riding started in Denver.”
I didn’t want to argue, but I knew this time I did know the answer.