Each day we went to combat with the gravel road. Battling on bicycle and foot. Helmets and shoes were afterthoughts. Never coming to mind until years later when we thought, “Should we have been worried?”

Sometimes I forget how brave I was, until I feel the pebbled shrapnel in my knee, or elbow. Then my Purple Heart asks, “What haven’t you survived?” And I smile and face the gravel of the day.

I used to think my summers would never end. I’m still trying to make that happen. By letting go the worry, and letting in the light. There never were pads for the heart — always meant to roam free — to fall, try, get up again, and love with wild abandon.