Dear person who stole my trike,
I really loved that trike, and I’m sad you stole it.
It was blue, upright, and the back wheels had been redrilled so the spokes could be replaced with a thicker gauge, for hundreds of dollars.
I’m sorry you’re in a place where stealing from disabled people in community makes sense for you. You must be in a tough situation.
I’m sorry our culture failed to meet your needs. I’m sorry you’re in poverty, looking for money or transport in a way that hurts other people.
I hope you got something significant for it. Are you the same person who stole all the community bike carts too?
bluebird
My trike’s name was Bluebird of Friendliness Pure Bliss, and it was my first trike.
Riding with Ming every morning saved my life, that year after my mom died. I’m so grateful that trike enabled my survival.
I know the trike itself doesn’t store that memory or store that richness.
Ming’s love is really what kept me alive, as well as a few friends who checked in with me every day, sunshine, movement, Parent Earth, and Mother God herself.
The trike is just a thing, while love and energy are real and eternal.
I wonder if you saw the datura sticker and know about datura. I wonder if you saw the All We Want Is Total Freedom sticker and enjoyed that one.
Vegas
There was a time in Las Vegas when my spouse Ming and I delivered flowers from our garden and the other Catholic Worker garden to halfway houses in our neighborhood.
We transported the vases of flowers in the basket of that trike, secured upright with a bungee cord.
The trike helped me understand what it feels like to be free. Once I could hop on and off easily without hurting myself, I felt like a sea lion slipping into the water. I loved to ride trike early mornings with Ming in our neighborhood.
There was a church parking lot we rode circles in, slightly running over the edge of a spoon, in order to flip the spoon up into the air, over and over again.
“One day we’ll have a different life from this, and we’ll be nostalgic for this parking lot,” I told Ming, and my prediction came true.
The zine Trike Diaries was important to me; I’m glad I talked about fatness, disability, death, and survival in that zine.
easy
I hope you have an easy life one day where you don’t need to steal. Or maybe you could steal from the rich.
I forgive you and release you from the bonds of hate. You’re just a person to me. I’m not your victim.
I hope to be your equal.
I love you,
Strawberry
8 replies on “letter to the person who stole my trike”
You are beautiful !
you are beautiful, pumps. thank you for everything you do for our family! you are amazing. I love you.
This is really powerful, Strawberry. I’m sad for the person who stole it also. I hope your words reach that person’s heart and healing happens. Arms around you. Canyon
gmorning, dear Canyon. thank you for holding me. I’m happy to make a world of love with you. yes, the messages we send out might reach their recipients, somehow.
Sorry you lost your trike. I hope it helps the person who took it. I hope you get a new one.
thank you, friend. yes, I have a new trike now named Strawberry’s Mystery Ship.
To notice nostalgia in its original state is so powerful and makes life richer! Thanks for showing me that I am not the only person to do this. I love the story of your first trike, even the part where it got sad and dark because someone stole it. The way you spoke to the thief and how you don’t banish them, you invite them to do better and wish them well. This is the truth of community.
thank you for the feedback, Nico. yes, striving for community is a lot. thank you for mentioning you also enjoy pre-nostalgia. for me it’s bittersweet! maybe we could ride together sometime.