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“But what if I break my arm again?” my 5-year-old daughter asked.I knew how much she wanted to learn to ride.Yet ever since she’d fallen off her bike and broken her arm, she’d been afraid.
“Oh honey,” I said.“I don’t think you’ll break another arm.”
“But I could, couldn’t I?”
“Yes,” I admitted, and found myself struggling for the right thing to say.“I don’t think I want to ride,” she said and got off her bike.
We walked away and sat down beside a tree.
“Don’t you want to ride with your friends?” I asked.“And I thought you were hoping to start riding your bike to school next year,” I added.
“I was,” she said in a low voice.
“You know, honey,” I said.“Most everything you do comes with dangers.You could break your arm at gymnastics.Do you want to stop going to the gym?” “No, of course not!” she replied.And with a determined spirit, she stood up and agreed to try again.I held on to the back of her bike until she found the courage to say, “Let’s go!”
I spent the rest of the afternoon at the park watching a very brave little girl overcome a fear, and congratulating myself for being an independent single parent.
As we walked home, pushing the bike as we made our way along the sidewalk, she asked me about a conversation she’d overheard me having with my mother the night before.
“Why were you and Grandma arguing last night?”
“It’s nothing.” I told her.
She shrugged(耸肩).“Grandma said she just wanted you to find someone to love.”
“What Grandma wants is for some guy to break my heart again,” I snapped.
“But Mom…”
“You’re too young to understand.” I told her.
She was quiet for the next few minutes.Then she looked up and in a small voice said, “So I guess love isn’t like a broken arm.”
Unable to answer, we walked the rest of the way in silence.When I got home, I let go and agreed to meet a man called Steve.
Steve was the man for me.We married less than a year later.It turned out my mother and my daughter were right.
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