The father wore a deep green sweater, the mother a deep yellow, and junior a deep blue. All were solid colours with a Vee-neck and had obviously been purchased from the same shop not more than a few hours ago, as I had watched mom pull them out of the handled paper bag and pass them around to the family.
The son was learning how to ride his white two-wheeler bicycle. White? Can’t start’em too early in having a white vehicle.
From my perch up on high—my western-side third-story balcony — I watched. From my own self-proclaimed ivory tower, I trespassed on that family’s private moments.
The family was in the old parking lot one street over from my apartment building – a scant 50 meters away.
The father ran alongside the son’s bicycle to ensure he wouldn’t fall off – but after a few seconds of stability, he let go and stood with his wife now beside him, watching the boy ride.
Wobbly at first, but generally straight, the boy let out a whoop – “Yata!” (Yay or alright!). he stopped when he ran out of room at the end of the parking lot. Getting off his bicycle, he turned it around, got back on and began riding straight towards his folks.
His father shouted something to his son, and the boy began to negotiate a circle – he almost made it, too. He tilted a tad too far and fell.
I nearly stood up with concern, but eased back into my perch as his parents came running up. It did my heart proud to watch him yell at his parents, who stopped in their tracks. He righted his bike, got back on and tried again. He fell. He tried again. He fell again.
Mom went back to the house for some reason – perhaps too terrified to watch?
The son gave up trying to do corners and went back to practicing going in a straight line. He fell one more time as he stopped.
After that initial fall, the father never moved again but only looked on anxiously.
Mom came back with the dog in her arms who jumped down and began running circles around her.
In a moment of the absurd, the son brought the bicycle back to his father, who lit upon it and rode it with legs splayed apart like Kermit the Frog, and rode the bike into a fence thanks to an inability to steer properly.
Laughing, both father and son went back to their nearby home while mom walked the dog for an additional 30 seconds before following them in.
What’s the point of this vignette? Just to let you know that people are people wherever you go—despite the Japanese love affair with white vehicles.
Somewhere falling off a bicycle,
Andrew Joseph
Today's Title is by Hall & Oates
