Happy Holes

By Karen Kirsten Nygren

 

Summertime in Wisconsin.

I got my first pair of wheels.

It wasn't much, but to me,

It was the best thing in that parking lot.

All the neighborhood kids would play at our house.

They laughed at me,

Being the youngest.

I was still in training.

I didn't know how to stop.

My solution was to just put my feet down.

Mama kept buying me more shoes.

I kept deepening the holes.

When I finally got a real bike, the holes got even worse.