Today, you said “Walk outside” for the first time and I could have burst into tears right then and there.
You knew what you wanted and that was an achievement in of itself, and just like the rest of them, I felt a fleeting second of sheer panic, mixed with dread, knowing that I am one day closer to the moment you walk away from me completely.
But any mother would have told me then, that though you knew what you wanted, it is still up to us to guide you, to give you your jacket when you ask for it, to soothe your fears as you take your first steps outside with shoes but no socks, to hold your hand while we walk — to come up with an alternate plan if the place you want to walk to is too far, just beyond your reach — so it’s up to me to distract you, to show you the leaves by the corner of the street and bury your laughing face in them, roll around in them with you as the sun sets behind us, and carry you home, cheeks red and breathless with bliss and happiness that I will remember– this memory of ours, in the palm of my hands, the very first time you were able to speak into existence — your desires.
Leave a Reply