A Bicycle in Asia Means So Much More
My excitement and anticipation had never reached such a climax in all my eight years of life. I had seven birthdays already under my belt, but none would compare with this one. This birthday was sure to be archived in my future memory as the best birthday of my childhood; the story I would retell time and time again. I confidently opened gift after gift, sure one of them would lead me outside to a long-asked-for-patiently-awaited bicycle. My parents had never been able to afford one before, and even though monetarily nothing had changed, I could feel in my bones that this was the year my dream would become reality. My senses tingled; a bicycle was close. As I came to the last present, I held my breath as I tore open the wrapping. What? No bicycle? No note telling me to look behind the garage? No first clue to a treasure hunt ending in my parent’s room with a gleaming, two-wheeled beauty, hopefully in pink? As doubt crept from my gut to my heart, I scanned the faces of my family assembl...