The college campus was still and serene this time of year. It was the end of summer and before the fall semester. The campus streets were lined up and down with trees that were changing into their autumn dressing. The sun would peak through the tops of the trees like stained glass windows, with shades of reds, greens and yellows. It was time for us, Ethan and I. I would strap him up in my bike and take him for a ride around campus.  No matter what kind of disagreeable mood Ethan was in, he’d always agree to a bike ride. He would have been 1 1/2 at the time. He would ride with a big fat grin on his face saying “faster, faster”. And sometimes he would just be silent. I would look back and see his silent and thoughtful face under the flame decaled black helmet. Several turns, several trips down the boulevard under the canopy of trees, I’d look back and his eyelids were starting to fall. He was about to crash. This is when I decide to head back home. Half way there I look back and his little head is bobbing with the bumps in the road and the weight of the helmet. He was now riding his bike in dreamland. Once we get to the front of our apartment, I have to gently rest my bike on the wall and take him out of his bike seat and take off his helmet. I pick him up and put him in his bed for his afternoon nap.

I feel like time is going by to fast. I try to permanently stamp moments in my life into my memory. But I always fail. I try to recall what I deliberately tried to remember and I always forget. So these memories that I can recall will be the pearls of my past. I will always visit them. Always more sentimental than it was but never as sweet when it happened.

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