To A Daughter Leaving Home Response (9/15/15) The safety of four wheels was hard to leave behind. The rusted red bike looked bigger now, without its support. It didn't stand up, but leaned against the ancient garage door, waiting to be played with, waiting to be circled around the block and beyond. Once the small girl jumped on the cracked leather seat and rode it by herself the first time, she knew she would fly. She mounted confidently, helmet gleaming in the afternoon sun. Her teeth, some missing, flashed as she smiled, twisting her hands on the handlebars, nervous. "I can do it," she said, more to herself than to anyone else before setting off down the driveway cautiously. She went slowly until she got the rhythm and gained speed. The wind howled in her tiny yet pierced ears so she didn't hear her helmet clasp snap away. Nor did she hear her parents' cries to slow down, to stop! So it wasn't until the bike wobbled underneath her that she knew this was th...