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　　“But what if I break my arm again?” my 5-year-old daughter asked．I knew how much she wanted to learn to ride．Yet ever since she’d fallen off her bike and broken her arm, she’d been afraid．

　　“Oh honey,” I said．“I don’t think you’ll break another arm．”

　　“But I could, couldn’t I?”

　　“Yes,” I admitted, and found myself struggling for the right thing to say．“I don’t think I want to ride,” she said and got off her bike．

　　We walked away and sat down beside a tree．

　　“Don’t you want to ride with your friends?” I asked．“And I thought you were hoping to start riding your bike to school next year,” I added．

　　“I was,” she said in a low voice．

　　“You know, honey,” I said．“Most everything you do comes with dangers．You could break your arm at gymnastics．Do you want to stop going to the gym?” “No, of course not!” she replied．And with a determined spirit, she stood up and agreed to try again．I held on to the back of her bike until she found the courage to say, “Let’s go!”

　　I spent the rest of the afternoon at the park watching a very brave little girl overcome a fear, and congratulating myself for being an independent single parent．

　　As we walked home, pushing the bike as we made our way along the sidewalk, she asked me about a conversation she’d overheard me having with my mother the night before．

　　“Why were you and Grandma arguing last night?”

　　“It’s nothing．” I told her．

　　She shrugged(耸肩)．“Grandma said she just wanted you to find someone to love．”

　　“What Grandma wants is for some guy to break my heart again,” I snapped．

　　“But Mom…”

　　“You’re too young to understand．” I told her．

　　She was quiet for the next few minutes．Then she looked up and in a small voice said, “So I guess love isn’t like a broken arm．”

　　Unable to answer, we walked the rest of the way in silence．When I got home, I let go and agreed to meet a man called Steve．

　　Steve was the man for me．We married less than a year later．It turned out my mother and my daughter were right．

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