Written on 30 April 2019
It was Jenny's fondest memory. The morning of April 30th 1989, her seventh birthday.
Her father and mother woke her with a round of Happy Birthday to you, her Dad holding her snoozing little brother, her mum presenting her breakfast. A glass of OJ, and a bowl of imported lucky charms. Jenny had tried some when they visited the States the previous summer and always asked for some. She was giddy. Pure sugar for breakfast.
Then, some bad news. Her parents told Jenny that, unfortunately, her presents hadn't arrived. There was a mix up at the post office, so she'd have to wait for the weekend. Jenny was disappointed, as any seven-year-old would be.
But then she arrived downstairs, and it was there. A brand new Raleigh BMX. Neon blue, with 18 gears and a shiny chrome bell. It was exactly what she wanted down to the colour of the peddles and the dark red leather on the seat.
She was overwhelmed. She fell to her knees right there in the kitchen and cried. It had been so beyond her wildest dreams that her parents would actually splash out for the bike. They had done a truly stellar job of tapering her expectations, and it had broken her in the best possible way.
For the next three years she was virtually glued to her BMX, until she outgrew it physically and mentally. Still, whenever she recalls that morning she smiles. Then she feels a little sad, because honestly she hasn't felt that good again. She peaked at age seven.