As a child, I used to be fearless, it seemed, compared to how I am now. I’d climb trees almost to the top. I’d hang upside down from the monkey bar at the top, letting my hands dangle. “Look at me.” My brothers would put me in their homemade go-carts and push me down the hill. I’d go flying without brakes. I’d ride my bicycle between Nicholas and Amsterdam in Washington Heights, if my aunt only knew. I learned physics the hard way in the unprotected playgrounds of the early 1960s. I’d skip a whole flight of stairs, jumping between the landings, and I could have cracked my skull. I once rode a dust devil on my skates in the park.
Now, I fear the 15 narrow steps I take every day to my upstairs apartment. I’m afraid of driving on the highway, when I used to love to drive. And, I’m terrified of riding a bicycle for some unknown reason.
GrowingOlderHopeWiser 
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