Stepping Stones

When we were younger—not young, just younger—and you were two, maybe three weeks old, Abu (grandmother) carried you in the crook of her arm and exclaimed with delight, “She fits just like a loaf of bread!”  It was a cold December, but a warm Christmas, followed by a quiet New Year as the new millenium dawned.  I wasn’t much help during that visit.  I tried, by taking the big, white dog for walks, but if we got too far from home, she would just sit down and not budge until I turned back.

We stayed four weeks, to return in the spring when there were walks in the wooded park.  And the big, white dog would bark and strain at the leash to chase squirrels while you, bundled up, rolled along in the stroller.  We would grow to know that park well, and would return again and again on later visits.  And sometimes Uncle A would also be there.

When you started to walk, you would help push the stroller along the paths until you decided you would rather ride.  In later years you would skip ahead of us on walks, perhaps stopping to play on the equipment in that small playground.

You were shy when you first enrolled at Montessori.  Sometimes Abu and I would go with your mother to pick you up.

Later when you entered middle school, Abu and I would walk over to get you and we would stop at Jamba Juice on the way home.

There was that Christmas at a ski resort with the entire family, when I watched you dad offer support as you cautiously circled the skating rink.

Then suddenly you were graduating from high school.  The ceremony was at night in a continuous, cold rain and your parents, Uncle A, and I sat on hard bleachers, thoroughly soaked, while you and the other four hundred seniors with wet, limp gowns went up one by one to receive you diplomas.

College came that fall.  You made new friends, studied, worked jobs, shared apartments. made road trips, and grew into being yourself.  

And then, college was over. Last week was graduation, this time on a bright sunny afternoon.  Your mom, two uncles and I, with two of your friends cheered loudly when your name was called and you walked across that stage.

This fall you will be back in school all the way east in New York.  You decided to follow your heart and enroll in culinary school where you will learn the techniques and arts of the kitchen.  To slice, season, saute, stew, roast, and perhaps bake the perfect loaf of bread.