To bike thief: You should be ashamed

An open letter to the person who stole my kid's bike: I have no idea what type of person steals a little boy's bike, with its training wheels and "I love my mom" bell.

But I want to tell you a little about its owner. Kenley is 4 years old. He was raised in an orphanage in Haiti from 18 months until he was 4. This January we were blessed to have him join our family.

In Haiti, Kenley had no toys or clothes or mommy of his own. He longed to come to America, where he had been told his dreams would come true.

When the snow melted and Kenley began to venture out here in Aurora, he became obsessed with one thing, having his own bike. He asked every day, and "bicycle" was one of the first words he learned in English. We were able to find him a very nice one at a garage sale. He was in heaven. But then someone decided that his bike, and one owned by his sister, were just too good to pass up; both were stolen from our yard.

Luckily a good friend knew of someone who had a well-loved bike looking for a new little boy to love it. Kenley is not going to remember America as the place someone stole his beloved bike, he is going to know it as the place where someone cared enough to let him have a bike of theirs.

The American dream is alive and well, despite the worst intentions of some people. And if you are reading this, our 8-year-old would love her bike back; she just learned to ride it. We would love to buy her a new one, but having five kids and another one on the way from Haiti, we just don't have it in our budget.

Cara Peckys

Aurora