By Joan Passarelli

Blue Jeans & Jelly Beans

I was deep in my phone conversation. Focused inward on plans for the next school year, I didn’t see the green leaves gently waving outside the kitchen window.

My 8-year-old daughter danced into the kitchen impatiently. I could tell she wanted to talk, so I didn’t meet her eyes.

She disappeared from my peripheral vision, and I concentrated again on the telephone. Then a small index card came sliding across the counter into my field of view. On it, in downward-straggling letters, was the sentence: “Do you want to go on a bike ride? __ yes __ no.”

Oddly enough, printed words go right into my brain even while I’m talking, so I understood right away. But I was dismayed. I still wanted to finish the calendar business I was working on.

Then I remembered my mom. Only recently I’d heard her say, “If any of my kids or grandchildren invite me anywhere, I go. It doesn’t matter where. I figure I’m lucky to be asked.”

I figured I needed to adopt my mom’s attitude. How often in my life will my youngest child ask me to ride bikes with her? So I picked up my pencil and scrawled, in letters equally uneven, “In a little bit.”

She jumped for joy and dashed off. I duly wrapped up my business and went to get my helmet. My 11-year-old daughter came too.

It was a perfect day for bike riding. A delicious breeze kept us cool under sunny skies as we rolled over to Loyola School to play on the playground.

I adjusted the little one’s helmet straps for her while she showed me how she could circumnavigate the climbing structure without touching the ground. I sang a song with my older daughter while she played.

Then we pedaled home. Going home was fun, because it’s a slight downhill. We all sped up and laughed at each other coasting along.

It was an ordinary bike ride. But really, it was special. Special because I’d had the sense to put my own plans aside for a while. Special because I’d given my youngest child a chance to be in charge for a change. And special because I was actually in the moment, breathing the air, feeling the pedals go around and talking and laughing with my girls.

The summer’s ending soon. Next week all three children will be back in school. I don’t know when we’ll have another day like that.

In the winter, when it’s raining all weekend and gets dark early, I’ll have this morning of blue skies and simple pleasures to look back on. And years from now, when I no longer have any kids around, I’ll treasure it even more.

Passarelli is the mother of three and lives in Mountain View. Her column runs the fourth week of the month.