Sunday, November 23, 2008
puddles and pine cones
It's hard to see part of your heart walk around outside of your body, but there he goes, walking through puddles and trying to walk down stairs. He might reach up to hold my hand, and I'll hold it firmly and gently and love the warmth that comes from the fluttering that is toddlerhood. Then he lets go and tries to run, stepping on crinkly leaves and finding pine cones on the grass. For now he wants me to be there, close enough to show me the treasures he finds and help him if he wants help. And I am here.