I didn’t think that I would write another blog. I don’t know how Tim and Jason can continue to crack open this blistering wound and allow themselves to bleed. But as I lied in bed last night, unable to sleep, this memory of David became so vivid that I started to quietly cry, afraid to wake my husband. I knew in that moment that I had to write again.
For those who remember, David went through a motorcycle phase. His friends got their licenses and bought bikes and would spend their days cruising.
As usual, our summers were spent at Aunt Elaine’s beach house. My mother agreed, much to my surprise, to allow David to take me on a bike ride. I was thrilled and secretly terrified.
I remember jumping on the back and David strapping the helmet on my head. We took off taking a left out of the driveway. I didn’t want David to know how nervous I was, so I gently laid my hands on his shoulders as we flew past the green parrot tree and up the road past the mansions with their view of the ocean. I didn’t realize that, although I was trying to conceal my terror, I was gripping on so tightly with my legs that I was squeezing David like a vise-grip. As we finally approached a stoplight, he turned around and said, “Bec, you’re killing me. Relax. Just hold on to me.” And with that said, he moved my hands from his shoulders and wrapped them around his waist. I trusted him to not let me fall as we leaned into the next turn.
The rest of our ride was beautiful and thrilling! We traveled around Milford past the Sundae House and back past our crab-catching spot (another story)… the sun gently kissing our skin and the wind swirling around us. For that small fraction of time on that blissful summer day, it was a world for just the two of us.
I haven’t been on a bike since my ride with David. Maybe I haven’t trusted someone enough to not let me fall. The one thing that I do know with all certainty is that I would give anything for one more chance to just “hold on” to my big cousin.
Oh David, why didn’t you just hold on?
