Joy Parade

Oh, the joy on her face as she sees the cat food bowl. It’s a race. Quickly, quickly, her crawling body lunging, going so fast. She gets there before me, her head nodding back and forth. “No, no, no…” she laughs. More laughter, giddy now, as I pick her up, nestling my head into her belly with a tickle and a kiss, making her laugh all the more.

She grabs my hands and leads me on an adventure, taking big steps with my help, here head held high, feet kicking out as she goes. Walking, walking. She is proud and delighted as she walks by her brother, slipping a bit on his puzzle pieces as she trots on by.

“Devin, Devin…” she tries the word. I can tell she’s saying his name instead of some other “D” word by the volume she uses, a call frequently echoing through the sounds of our home, like the fervent search party until he’s been found.

This time, just a boisterous greeting. She struggles a bit with the decision to wave or not to wave. Then, with the daring, gusto and courage that has come to be a marker of who she is, she goes for it. Letting go of my hand, she teeters for a moment, body swaying right then left, left then right palm open then shut, open then shut, little hand greeting him robustly and delightedly, then teetering once more as her hand returns to mine.

We are off again, stepping, stepping, as she kicks her legs out with a smile. A 28 inch parade is happening by.