the youth for our parents

A young child stood clad in his worn out pajamas. You could make out his diaper as he grappled with controlling his legs. He was at an age wherein he would not remember this day. There was no sun, only clouds and a strong breeze that thankfully didn’t sweep him astray. His father stood from a safe distance, both marveling and trembling as his son slowly walked away – towards unfamiliar ground, towards dangers that were unfound. Yet the boy would constantly look back to his father, seeking approval more than permission. Rules have yet to be taught, caution could wait til he could talk.

Today, it was a day only the father would remember in exactly the same way.


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