Our little guy took some of his first steps yesterday.  He walked from our chair over to the couch, slowly and methodically, while laughing and giving me a look that indicated he could hardly believe he was actually doing it on his own!  I had a feeling that he would start taking his first steps yesterday.  All day, he kept going back to his little red wagon, which I had reluctantly brought back out for him to use (I had it put away for a while because it made too much noise and bothered the neighbors).  Holden really seemed like he wanted to use it, so I let him walk around the house with it.  He walked and walked and walked.  And then he finally walked for real without any sort of assistance.  He was giddy while he walked, like the excitement of it was going to cause him to lose his balance and fall toppling to the floor.  

I remember that sense of excitement from my own youth—not with walking, but with learning to ride a bike.  I remember the first time I rode a bike without training wheels.  I believed that my father was going to be holding on to the bike the whole way down the hill in our front yard, but when I looked over my shoulder, I saw him way behind me at the top of the hill, waving proudly.  In that moment, I was so surprised and excited that I could ride my bike myself, that I felt my balance waver and my concentration soften.  I didn’t fall off my bike but I did wobble slightly from side to side, not unlike Holden’s uneven gait as he made his way over to the couch.  

To me, the real triumph is not  that Holden walked; rather, it is his recognition that he was capable of doing something novel, precisely coordinated, and uniquely human.