Sometimes you just can't say goodbye

Though they have long out grown it, they refuse to give it away...even though their knees are shoved up into their chins if they even attempt to ride it.  When Zach was without serious wheels he would take to sitting on the back step and ride it like a Harley. Even the neighborhood kids will drop their big kid bikes to scoot up and down the street on it. (Just now, I told our little neighbor, Nic, to park it in the garage before he left for home.)

I love that it is still loved. Still tickin'. Hanging on to the past. A last link to when my little two year old Bean was cruising around on her shiny red trike, wearing her froggy rain boots, her wispy curly hair flying behind her. 

It has taken on a nice patina of rust, but I think that adds to its charm. I keep it because the kids throw a fit if I suggest we sell it at a garage sale. Who am I kidding?  Perhaps it's me that doesn't want to say goodbye.