It was a wet Sunday afternoon.  The day was rather cloudy.  It had been raining the whole day creating a relaxed mood.  Although a Sabbath, Daniel needed to revise his studies in view of his upcoming exams.  Neither his papa nor mummy have the capabilities or patience to attend to this matter.  When his grandfather volunteered to teach the little boy, we willingly let him. 

His grandfather stays near us.  To get to the house, one needs only to take a simple and straightforward route.  We just need to turn right after our gate and travel the main lane for about three hundred meters in a straight line.

By my definition, there were three ways of getting the boy there;  by car, by bicycle or on foot.  But for my spouse, there were only two choices minus the first one.  The car was not an option because it just rained and it was muddy, he said.  If I understood him correctly, he was trying to communicate to me that his car would melt like sugar when it came in contact with rain water.   I’ve been married to this man for a decade, and yet I still have difficulty understanding his male brain and his relationship with his car.

Sorry for the digression. 

Taking the bicycle seemed to be the preferred option.  Daniel had just received a brand new shining bicycle as a birthday present last month.  He eagerly looks forward to bicycle rides ever since.  The current situation presented a great opportunity. 

I had a brilliant idea.  Why don’t we, I told my spouse, let him cycle there on his own. 

“Are you serious?” he asked.

I nodded my head.  Of course, there were risks involved.  Perhaps a moving vehicle might hit him, or his bike might get stuck in a huge pothole or worse still, our little boy might slip and bleed to death.  But I kept reminding myself not to be overly protective and paranoid.  After all, the boy is already eight.

“I think he can do it,” I replied.  “It’s just a short distance and he can visually be seen until he reaches the other house.”

The distance between the two houses was just about perfect.  It was far enough for two families to retain their privacy, and near enough to be reached quickly by walking or pedaling. 

I asked Daniel if he would like to cycle there on his own.  He was ever ready.  I was starting to get nervous a little. I asked him again if he was really sure.  It was more like I was asking myself for a confirmation.  He nodded his head nonchalantly.

I was upstairs busy with the baby.  When I went downstairs, he was already outside the gate and on his bike, ready to leave.  Before I could give him motherly advice on being out in the big bad world, he was off cycling away without a head turn.  He left behind a cheerleading group of parents and siblings. 

“Bye!” I cried out. 

Apprehension swept over me as I saw him out there on his own.  Did I do the right thing?  What if he vanishes into thin air?  What if he slips and falls?  Who will he turn to for help?  What if? What if?  

Out of nowhere, we saw a blue car coming from the opposite direction towards Daniel.  It seemed to be traveling at the speed of a snail crawl.  Nonetheless, it looked menacing enough. 

“What is the car doing? Why is it moving so much towards Daniel’s side?” my spouse said out loud.

I had never heard my normally composed spouse sounding so urgent.  It looked like I was not the only one with all these uncertainties of ‘what ifs’ floating in my mind.

Soon Daniel was just a dot.

“Where is your dad?  I don’t see him outside,” he continued.  I had called my dad a few minutes earlier to expect Daniel’s arrival.

“I don’t know,” I replied absentmindedly, trying hard to focus on the dot.  “Has he passed the house yet?”  I spoke lightly but my eyes were fixed intensely a distance away.  They never left sight of the dot. 

I didn’t know if the little boy would know how to stop at the correct house. What would I do if he continued cycling straight on?

I realized with hindsight that it was a silly worry taking into account of the hundreds of times he has traveled the same route to get there.  And he knows the house number by heart. 

“Not yet.  He needs to pass the brown car first,” my spouse replied, referring to a faraway stationary car.

Then suddenly, I could see the boy and his bicycle no more.

“Has he arrived?” I asked.  Not waiting for an answer, I ran into the house and upstairs.  At that moment, I felt eternally grateful to Mr Alexander Graham Bell and his great telephone invention.     

“Heelloooo…,” came the familiar boyish voice at the other end of the line. 

As I plunge into the role of a mother, there were many times in my life I doubted whether I had made the right decisions for my boys.  That day, I knew that I had made the right decision sending him out alone into the world, if only for a short while.