One day last spring I finally sold our daughter’s bicycle. She’s 17 now and drives a car. The bike had been collecting dust in our garage for several years now. It was time to let it go. This one was the last in the continuum of three bikes that she’s owned, and it was a real doozy! It was bright pink with floral designs on the frame, it had hand brakes and ten gears and multi-colored streamers spilling out from the ends of the handlebars. A woman bought it for her granddaughter. The little girl looked to be about ten years old, the same age as our daughter when we first bought her the bike. The joy on this girl’s face when she got out of the car and saw the bike was a beautiful sight. She quickly jumped onto the seat, gave it a test ride around our cul-de-sac and we called it a deal. I loaded the bike into their car, the girl beaming the whole time.

Last night I finally got around to selling the portable basketball hoop that we had bought for our son. I spent most of a Christmas day seven years ago assembling the thing. When we finally had it up, he and I shot hoops until well past dark. It’s been a couple of years now since he’d last used it. The hoop had since become a perch for neighborhood songbirds and an occasional resting place for fallen leaves from our oak tree. A guy bought it as a Christmas gift for his young son. We disassembled the hoop and just barely managed to fit it into the back of his mini-van. Looking out front this morning, all that’s left of the hoop is a large black spot of mud and leaves that had collected under the base. It’s a strange empty space, kind of like the void left when a tree is cut down.

Yes, it’s just a basketball hoop, but it’s also the many hours spent playing H-O-R-S-E and one -on-one with our son; the impossible 25 foot jump shots that caught nothing but net. Of course, it’s just a bicycle, but it’s also the unbridled joy on our daughter’s face, her long red braids flying out from behind her as she speeds down the street for the first time on her new bike.

It’s not the “thing” but rather the memories that are attached to it.

These past few years have been particularly active and filled with change for our two children. As they transition from tweens to teens to late teens, I’m reminded that the only thing in life that’s constant is change. This is especially evident to those of us who have children. The transition from one phase of their lives to the next is happening rapidly and right before my eyes. It’s this dynamic nature that reminds me to be present, show up for my kids and appreciate every moment that we share. On the cusp of adulthood, our children are putting away childish things and preparing to take that leap of faith into the future.