A walk with a one-year-old.
We travel half a block and stop at least two dozen times. Baby C investigates leaves, collects rocks, tastes rose petals, and giggles about soft purple clovers.
She plops in the middle of the quiet, deserted road to rest. She trudges onto a green lawn soaking her shoes and pants with morning dew. She hands me treasures with her funny word for "here" that sounds like "ha."
She is entertained by a stick and mesmerized by a pine cone. I coax her with encouragement to keep walking, but she is tired and begins to cry.
I scoop her up. She wipes her nose on my shoulder and smiles. I carry her home on my hip, with her clutching fist-fulls of my shirt. She lets go only once, to wave to the high school bus as it passes us.
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