Simple life

nationall (55)in #esteem • 5 years ago (edited)

When I was a kid, life wasn’t so complicated. We used to get up in the morning worrying about nothing. The first sound we used to hear in the morning wasn’t that of the alarm clock. It was mom’s lovely arguments with the neighbours over whose turn is it to use the clothesline. Hearing those arguments was a sort of a cue for us to wake up. Around that time, breakfast gave us an idea about how the day was going to be. If it consisted of tea, olive oil, and bread, the day wasn’t going to be so easy. However, if it consisted of tea, cheese, jam, and bread, the day was going to be fun. So, as naïve kids, we used to wake up and hope it was a cheese-and-jam kind of day.

Back then, there was a kid in our block who had a bike. A nice one. I think his name was Omar. After politely taking his permission, we used to get together and take turns in riding his bike. He used to clock each round and set up the perimeter. Feeling nervous and embarrassed of falling, you had to respect the perimeter, don’t use the brakes, and smile back at him hoping for longer rides. The kid was mean to us. Without a warning, he used to interrupt one’s ride and order another kid to get on the bike. Even though we resented his orders, we had to do whatever he used to say. Nothing else mattered. At that time, the bike ride was everything one could wish for.

One day, while patiently waiting for the promised ride, we witnessed something unusual. After getting off of the bike, one of the kids said that if we take the bike up the block and look on the right-side of the block, we would notice something interesting.

I was intrigued. We were all intrigued. After all, it was a cheese-and-jam kind of day.

After one of my friends finished, Omar told me it was my turn to ride the bike. Some of the kids were gossiping about what they had seen up the block on the right-side. They refused to let us know what was there. However, they promised us it was interesting. Nervously, I got on the bike and started pedaling. Omar insisted that we should pedal gently. I did accordingly. I used to pedal slowly, not because I wasn’t a professional bike rider, but because I wanted to stretch the minutes. To get the best of that moment.

‘Do you see it?’ one of the kids shouted down the block.

I had forgotten about why I was there. I was immersed in the moment. To me, the bike ride was a heavenly experience.
Suddenly, I noticed it. I had an odd feeling about what I was looking at. Feeling absorbed, I stopped the bike, got off of it, unintentionally dropped it, and stared in surprise to the right-side of the block.

In our block, there used to be one kid with a bike. The one and only Omar. The mean Omar. At that moment, up the block on the right-side, there was a group of kids riding their bikes, having the time of their life, and oddly enough, each person was on his own bike. It was unusual for kids in our block to witness that. They belonged to another block. Not ours for sure.

‘Bring the bike back. You’ll never ride it again. I can promise you that.’ Omar shouted feeling angry.

Omar always kept his promises. He never went back on them. He was never going to back down on this one. There was no doubt that it was my last time riding Omar’s bike. Eventually, I got on the bike and started pedaling. This time, however, I was neither gentle nor slow. Since it was my last time, I wanted to pedal fast. Feeling brave and furious, I pedaled fast enough to see things blur and feel the breeze touch my sweaty big forehead.

‘That’s unusual of him.’ One of the kids shouted pointing at me.

‘Use the goddamn brakes!’ another kid screamed and bent down to escape Omar’s notice.

Knowing it was my last time riding Omar’s bike, I got close to the group and pressed the rear brakes hard enough to leave skid marks on the asphalt. While doing that, I felt adrenaline run through me. The feeling was great, but it was brief. What followed was unexpected. The cheese-and-jam kind of days were about to be changed.