Leona on a Bike

Leona got her first real bike yesterday. Okay, it has training wheels on it. And she didn't really get it: it's her cousin's bike, but he's too small for it yet. Let's hope she doesn't tear it up in the meantime ,or we'll have to buy Min-gun a new one!

She was riding it down the walking trail behind our house when I realized how big she was getting. Yesterday, she was just was a baby, today she's riding her first bike, tomorrow she'll probably have a boyfriend. Time flies like an arrow, as they're fond of saying in Korea. We're both getting older, Leona and I. As I was walking next to her and pushing her along when she got stuck, I couldn't help but think of the poem "My son, my executioner" by Donald Hall.

I was very proud of her, watching her peddle her little heart out, and wondered if my parents felt the same way about me when I took those small steps toward independence and adulthood. My mother claims that I had a hard time learning to ride a bike actually, but I don't believe her! What could be hard about riding a bike?

Leona owes her existence to Buddhism, actually. I had ridden up to Bodhisattva temple, which is one of my favorite mountain temples, and fairly close. While I was there, I saw the cutest little boy in the main hall, and his older sister was teaching him to bow in front of the statue. And my heart just kind of melted: after I talked to Helen about this, my wife and I thought seriously about having a child.

Neither one of us had originally planned to have a child: we'd gotten married and decided not to have kids. I was never one of those get-married-and-have-kids type. I never dreamed of a son or a daughter. Heck, I had never even considered marriage until my 30s.

Why did we call her Leona, incidentally? My paternal grandfather's name is Leo. My father's middle name is Leo. My middle name is Leon. But that's not the reason!

Most Korean woman have a baby dream: a special and particularly vivid dream that announces they are pregnant, and gives them a hint of the gender and personality of the child.

My wife had her baby dream: she and I were sitting on the steps of a traditional Korean house when the gate opened, and a shining white lion pushed her way in. My wife was scared and tried to shoo it away, but would not leave. So we called our baby Leona, which of course means lion. A friend gave us a list of lion names in all kinds of languages: that one seemed to fit her the best.

Aside from a long mane of hair and an occasionally fierce temperament, she exhibits no other lion-like qualities. Somewhat to my relief.