Last Sunday, I went to East Coast Park to celebrate one of my relatives' birthday and was so envious of the kids, who were even younger than me, riding the bicycle. You must be wondering, what is the big deal?

Sadly, I do not know how to ride the bicycle. I did learn how to ride one when I was 4 years old, though. However, I could still recall why all this had just turned into a wish...

One Saturday afternoon, while both my parents were in the room working, I was secretly riding on my 4-wheels-bicycle, which I had just begun learning how to ride it.I was constantly reminded that this was 'illegal', in a sense, as my parents had banned me from riding the bike at home, afraid that I would damage any furniture, especially the antique table, which my father had cherished very much.

I thought I was capable of riding the bicycle, just that there was not enough space in the house to prove my abilities. Of course that could not have been the truth, as I was riding the bicycle when suddenly, "Wham!" I bumped into something-lightly. This aroused the attention of my parents and they quickly hurried out to find out what had happened. To make things worse, the poor victim of my poor riding skills was the antique table; it was definitely not a good day for me...

I was terrified of the impending doom, but what could I have done? It was my fault in the very first place. Worse still, it was the antique table. My father would never just let the matter rest...

My parents were so furious-not only because I had knocked into the antique table, but also that I had broken my promise to them that I would never ride the bicycle in the house.

"This is all your fault. Since you don't want to listen to us, this is what you'll get!" My father bellowed. Even my mother could not sympathise with me.

In the end, my dear bicycle was found at the void deck the next day and I also received a 'cold treatment' at home. A part of me was convinced that this punishment was fair-had in not been me who had broken my promise? But of course, as a rueful young child, there was another part of me that protested; so what if I had broken my promise? Is the antique table really so damaged? The dent I left was less than a centimetre deep. It was almost unidentifiable from a distance... However, I guessed this punishment was much better than being locked up in my room for a day?

From that day on, my parents did not trust me as much again. Much of my previously earned freedom was lost and I learned the importance of keeping a promise to someone, no matter how trivial the matter may be, as that person had trusted you so much. Of course, I still have not learnt how cycle...

Labels: Victoria