On walking

(Note: Yes, I'm being one of those erratic bloggers because I'm uncertain that anyone reads this anyway. Which gives me an excuse not to do it, I suppose. I'm a good writing-angst-avoider. But much is happening, and I really do need to write about it. So I'm back).

My little E is 13 months now and newly walking. Very newly, as in he took his first unassisted steps a couple of weeks ago and really got going in the last 24 hours, actually traversing his room a couple of times before dropping to sitting--or falling down. He still crawls more than he walks, but just in the last day his standing has become much more steady and sure, and his steps more confident. I foresee a future of falling a whole heck of a lot, but those first seeds of independence are being sown.

It seems symbolic that much of that time, he's actually walking away from me rather than toward me.

I'm not saying he doesn't love me or doesn't need me, but the kid has a strong-willed, independent streak. He's a lot like his father in that respect. And a lot like me. And that sometimes means walking away.

His focus, of course, isn't on walking away from anything, but walking toward something he wants--a favorite toy, his bookshelf, or in the direction of my cell phone so he can swipe it up triumphantly. Sometimes, it's Mommy he wants. Sometimes, he's content to leave me behind.

It's an experience I suspect will become a painfully familiar one throughout my son's life--him fighting for more independence, moving toward his goals, and moving just a little farther from me, while I watch, lump of pride in my throat, while also blinking back tears.

Every time he learns, I feel so proud, and a little bit sad, thinking about the day he won't need me anymore.

I know it's still years away, but the whole of parenthood is preparing for this, that moment in the future when he stands fully on his own, walking in the direction of his choice. Perhaps not even looking back. I'll need a lot of practice to prepare myself for that day.

But for now, I watch him learning to walk, I help guide him, and I feel that bittersweet pride. He needs me to be here today, and I am. I'll always be here when he needs me--even if he just needs me to let him walk away.