she’d borrowed from Lily. She tucked the keys into the pocket of her black fleece jacket and pushed her bike beside Ava’s little pink and white bicycle with its two-toned training wheels as they set off down the path that wound through the Ballard green space. The park was geared toward family activities, and even on this chilly January day, with a brisk breeze tangling hair and turning cheeks pink, the space was thronged. Parents accompanied children as they rode bicycles, tricycles and scooters along the paths, slid down slides or glided high on swings. Bundled up in boots, jeans, fleeces zipped to just beneath their chins, with gloves on their hands and earmuffs to keep their ears warm, Ava and Frankie joined the other children and adults on the wide, paved bike path.
Ava concentrated on pedaling and keeping her wheels straight, the tip of her pink tongue just visible between her teeth as she focused. The loquacious little girl couldn’t be silent for long, however.
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