Chapter 25 - The Motorcycle in the Garage
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The weekend brought a rare stretch of quiet, beautiful autumn weather. Samuel was determined to help me "clean" the garage, which mostly involved him moving cardboard boxes from one side of the room to the other while making loud truck noises.
As I was sweeping the dusty concrete floor, Samuel squeezed behind a stack of old paint cans and let out a loud gasp of discovery.
“Mommy! Look what I found!” Samuel yelled.
I hurried over, my heart skipping a beat as I saw what he was pointing at. Tucked into the deepest, darkest corner of the garage, hidden beneath a heavy, dust-covered canvas tarp, was Gabriel’s old vintage Honda motorcycle.
I had completely forgotten it was there. My father had quietly arranged to have it towed from our old house to his garage shortly after the hospital discharged me, knowing I couldn't bear to look at it, but also knowing I would never want to sell it.
I reached out with a trembling hand and slowly pulled the heavy canvas tarp back. The chrome was dull, and the leather seat was cracked, but it was unmistakably his. I could almost smell the faint scent of engine oil and cedar soap that had always clung to Gabriel's skin.
“What is it, Mommy?” Samuel asked, his eyes wide with absolute awe.
“It’s a motorcycle, Sammy,” I whispered, tears suddenly burning the back of my eyes. “It belonged to your daddy.”
My father walked into the garage, leaning heavily on his cane. He stopped when he saw the uncovered machine, his expression softening into a deep, melancholic understanding.
“He spent hours working on that old engine,” my father said quietly, stepping up beside us. “He loved bringing broken things back to life.”
“Can we fix it?” Samuel asked, looking up at me with pleading, hopeful eyes. “Can we make Daddy’s bike go vroom again?”
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I looked at my father, then back down at my eager son. The grief was still there, but it was no longer paralyzing. It felt like an invitation to honor the past rather than hide from it.
“Yes, Sammy,” I smiled, wiping a stray tear from my cheek. “I think it’s finally time we fix it.”
