The tiny little steps

Yesterday, little Aaryan surprised me by standing up on his own.

For a moment I simply watched him, almost unable to believe it. He seemed delighted with himself — laughing, wobbling, smiling endlessly at this new discovery of balance.

My little son is growing up.

Soon you will be walking everywhere on your own.

Even now, though you can manage a few steps by yourself, you still prefer holding my finger while walking. And sometimes I wonder whether it is really you holding my hand — or me holding yours.

I often think about the day you will walk away from me completely.

It will be a beautiful thing, of course, to watch you become yourself, to see you move confidently into your own world. And yet somewhere within me remains the quiet ache of knowing that these tiny hands will not always reach for mine.

A few months ago, I wanted to write down every little thing you did — every word, every expression, every new wonder you discovered. But slowly I realized that many moments are better lived than preserved.

Soon you will be fourteen months old.

Time is moving too quickly.

Sometimes I wish it would pause here for a while — with you sitting in my lap, your tiny feet fitting inside my palms while I tickle them and listen to your laughter filling the room.

This evening we step outside together for a walk.

The moment we reach the gate, you point excitedly toward a parked motorcycle and make a loud “Burrrrr” sound, proudly announcing its existence to the world. You wave at the guard uncle, eager to move ahead, eager to explore.

And suddenly I can see it clearly in your eyes:

“I am ready, Dad.”

What I really want to say is:

“Wait a little longer. I am not ready yet.”

But instead I smile, hold your tiny hand for a few more steps, and quietly let you lead the way.