Julie Helen: Life is short...joy matters 

I pulled into the neighbour’s driveway to collect Ricky from the school bus when, all of a sudden, he came flying around the side of the house on a bike as if he had been cycling for years.

His face was filled with glee as our eyes met and he kept going for another round. He has had a balance bike since he was younger, which is a smaller bike with no pedals that teaches the balance needed for cycling.

I hadn’t realised how magic the balance bike was until I saw Ricky on the big bike with no stabilisers or training wheels. He had just taken off after a couple of pushes from willing accomplices and there was no stopping him.

We borrowed the same bike for a few days so he could cycle on the concrete at home and get comfortable with it all.

He really took to cycling like a duck to water so as soon as the weekend came, we went on an expedition to get his own brand new bike. 

I wanted to embrace his enthusiasm and keep his momentum going but also wanted to teach him that when we borrow something, we must return it so that we can borrow again when we need to.

We had so much fun choosing the bike, but actually, because it is Ricky’s first real one and he’s still growing, our options were limited. We chose the coolest one we could and then of course we needed all the safety gear too. A blue helmet was top of the list, along with kneepads, elbow pads and hand protectors which luckily came in a set. We spent a long time making sure it all fitted correctly before we could properly commit.

When we were back in the car, I reminded Ricky that the bike was his birthday present but we were getting it early so he could get some time on it instead of waiting for his actual birthday in December when the weather is wetter and his birthday melts into Christmas.

He wrapped his arms around my neck and planted a signature kiss on my cheek and told me I was the best Mom ever. I had to gulp back tears.

Life is short, joy matters and when he is happy to be outside and moving, I will grab it with both hands.

On the Sunday, my parents, now affectionately known as Granny and Tim, and my brother Diarmuid came to visit, so Ricky was flat out practicing his cycling so he could show them all. Dad immediately thought that the bike saddle was a bit low and adjusted it and Ricky seemed to go even faster afterwards.

One of the highest compliments Dad paid me, without even realising it, was by being in his socks in our kitchen. He always wears only socks at home, but never when he’s visiting. He’ll be in his good shoes and he’ll keep them on.

To see him in his socks was like a nod of approval that our home is an extension of his, and I always wished our home would be like the train station that Woodside is, where there’s always a welcome and plenty food.

On this occasion, Dad had brought lunch with him after a visit to the English Market, a favourite haunt of his.

Mum had brought over a hundred daffodil bulbs, my favourite flowers, to plant in our garden, and I will remember forever, seeing the magical team of] Granny, Tim and Ricky, still wearing his bicycle helmet, all planting the bulbs together.

It was a Sunday well spent.