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| InstructorKonstantin Beznosov Teaching AssistantYazan Boshmaf | Not ForgottenSheila Packa
 I learned to ridethe two wheel bicycle
 with my father.
 He oiled the chain
 clothes-pinned playing cards
 to the spokes, put on the basket
 to carry my lunch.
 By his side, I learned balance
 and took on speed
 centered behind the wide
 handlebars, my hands
 on the white grips
 my feet pedaling.
 One moment he was
 holding me up
 and the next moment
 although I didn’t know it
 he had let go.
 When I wobbled, suddenly
 afraid, he yelled keep going—
 keep going!
 Beneath the trees in the driveway
 the distance increasing between us
 I eventually rode until he was out of sight.
 I counted on him.
 That he could hold me was a giventhat he could release me was a gift.
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