MY NEIGHBOR TEACHING HER DAUGHTER              TO RIDE A BIKE ON MEMORIAL DAY A ten-minute frolic, a morning interlude of squeals and wobbles, mother and daughter pursuing an age-old quest of mastery on the day we remember our war dead. I pause in my yard work, lean on my pushbroom, this snapshot in time collapsing into time past, me with a firm grip on my daughter’s tiny seat leading and guiding from behind, ever forward. And the cascade continues, in free-fall now to my own father, setting me free and thinking me…