Tricycle

Tricycle

I see myself flying through the air like a paper plane.

So, I wait for my mother to walk out.
I back up quickly to the living room wall.
I peddle across the pine floor with all my might.
She catches a glimpse as I jet past the kitchen door.
“Nooo!”
It’s too late.

I roar over the ledge.
Shocked, I don't soar into the air.
The tricycle veers down.
I clamp my eyes in fear.

In darkness, we hit the steps head over handle bars.

With a crack and a thud, we hit the floor.
I jerk my mouth open;
silence.

I gasp and try again.
Then the heaving wails come.

When I open my eyes, she is there.
Mom snatches me up and cradles me.
I clutch her and sob.

As she rocks me, she whispers,
“You're okay. You're gonna be fine. Mama's here.”

I look past her tear stained shoulder.
I see the wreckage of my world scattered across the floor and scream;
“Fix it, Mom! Fix it!”