wheelie tender_square the boy was horizonal on the foam core floor of the playground, clutching his knee like a pro athlete, his neon green bmx bike splayed beside him. "are you okay?" i asked. "i hurt my knee doing a wheelie," he said. he had a head of wild curls the colour of wheat and walnut and an open face not yet hardened to the world. i asked if his parents were around, not knowing whether his injury was serious. he was alone and my heart gladdened for a child free to explore without a helicopter parent, the way i grew up. "do you live close? are you able to walk?" he gradually got up to his feet, dusted off his army-print shorts. he smiled. "i'm okay," he declared. he picked up his bike, straddled the banana seat, and pedaled off across the open field and into the sunset. 230722 what's it to you? who go blather from