Peddle Harder

My sweet sister, Kristen.

Falling off a bike is a normal occurrence for people. We’re clumsy, dismiss curbs and try to test the limits on the rough street terrain. Tumbling off a bike hurts. We get bruised and bloody, scrapped and scabbed; but, we get over it. It doesn’t faze us. We’re resilient to setbacks. After all, we are human. On most days we entertain the idea we are unbreakable—a piece of china strapped to the deck of a vessel in a sea storm. My sister carries with her every day the concept of collapsing. She knows she is a glass house; but this does not stop her from strapping on a helmet, wrist guards and knee pads. She peddles long and hard with a fear most never have to carry. You see—Kristen has a tumor which has rendered her legally blind. 

Her lack of vision is camouflaged by her confidence and sheer joy radiating from her smile. Raven hair, her stylish bangs cover something my family likes to call her “battle scar.” It stretches from the center of her forehead to just above the top of her right ear. It’s a reminder of the emergency brain surgery, 10 years ago, that altered her life forever in a paramount way.

I find myself longing to see colors the way others see them, Kristen has said to me. The vivid hues in heavy tapestry and pastel flowers that cover wedding cakes, we take for granted—she yearns to see these colors in the fullest spectrum.  Kristen sees the world through altered eyes and this set-back, some might call it, has in-turn seasoned her heart. It overflows with compassion—a compassion unheard of and unbridled. She is the definition of a hero. She exercises superhuman strength daily.