sjsprWriting

I sit in class, daydreaming, hearing the seconds go by, and thinking about the class. One scene clouds my mind. I am five or six years old. I’m in front of my old house riding my old bicycle. I rode the entire block and back. My father was waiting for me with his tools in his hands. The time had come to take off the training wheels. As I got back on the bike, it somehow felt lighter. I heard the voice of my father telling me to hold on but suddenly there were no voices in the world. I continued to pedal and I noticed I was already at the end of the street. I felt the world go by and I felt like I was flying. Wind in my hair and leaving all the worries behind.

Suddenly, I am back in the classroom. Staring at a whiteboard filled with numbers and equations I could not comprehend. I tried to pay attention but I was already drifting off. Now I was eight years old. I was riding the same bike around the block. I come back and my father said it was time to take the training wheels off. I got back on the bike and started pedaling. I felt fear instead of freedom. I lost control and fell.

What really happened ? Did I felt freedom or fear? Did I thrived or fell?  Was I six or eight ? What is truly real in our minds?