Baby A

We stood in an abandoned playground and let an entire tree worth of leaves shower down on us with every gust of wind. Little droplets snuck in under our coat hoods, and even with the mild Temperatures it was clear this was autumn weather. Undeterred, she pulled me toward the steps along the side of the fence, leading up to a gate and out into the rest of the park. She held my hand fast to steady her little body as she took step after step up those steps. At the top, she turned around, wavered, and walked back down again.

A hundred times we've climbed these steps, a thousand since she learned how to use her feet for walking, and still the same joy at accomplishing it each time, still the same pride and relentless tenacity, again and again she climbs and descends,  climbs and descends. An entire playground was built around her, with colorful construction and inviting adventures, but she needs none of them. The boring, every day rut of walking a few steps is something else completely to her, and I follow her up, down, up, down, in a state so mindful, so near zen, that I understand what they mean when they say children are wiser than we are.

She looks up at me, beaming. Claps for herself and waits for me to join, applauding her wondrous achievements and delighting in the feeling of mastering something new. The lesson lines up in front of me and all I have to do is see it. Do something new, something you couldn't do before but you learned. Now do it again. Be as thrilled about it this time, and next time, adore the sensation and rejoice in your strength. We never master, we only find new things to learn. One step at a time.

Be here, now.