scrapes on the bike

Liv is obsessed with riding her bike. She's become a daredevil. Attempting to ride without hands. Launching her bike off the curb. Racing along beside me to pass.
On Sunday, she had her first 'wipe-out'. Going up on the curb, her back tire missed and over she went. I felt for her. Those gravel filled skinned knees hurt. But I also felt proud. She was fearless enough to ride hard and get hurt.
Don't you remember laying on your clean, line dried sheets on summer evening listening to the birds outside the window while feeling a slight sunburn on your back and nice thick scabs on your knees? Knowing that you had worked hard and played harder. You had had a good day and there was some satisfaction in knowing that you were injured....knowing that you had something to show for your efforts.
But after I had deposited her sore little body on the front steps along with her little brother, I returned to the scene of the accident to retrieve the bikes from across the road.
From nowhere, the loss of Jeff hit me hard. Bent over, I gulped air as the moment of his death replayed rapidly, the magnitude of his loss and the sadness of loneliness without him washed over me. Tears that stung slid down my cheeks and I quietly sobbed trying to push away the sadness.
As I came back across the road, dragging three bikes with me, I saw the two reasons that I get up each morning watching me. We sat on the front step and held each other for a time and I relished what I haven't lost. I am so lucky to have what I have left. If only....If only, he was here to feel how lucky we are together. God, I miss him.