No more training wheels

I feel like it could be a metaphor.

For what, I’m not sure yet.

Ive been swimming in joy, in pride of his pride, the overwhelming emotions projected by his confidence. How odd it is that there’s a weight lifted from your shoulders, a weight you didn’t know existed—that you just felt, when you witness confidence blossom in your child.

When your child believes in themselves the world is a better place. It’s like a burst of hope that it won’t destroy them. Oh how I pray he’ll always see himself as I see him, and never see himself as I see myself. That fire, keep feeding it.

The training wheels came off. Literally. The rusty bolts loosened over the days of treading the bumpy pavement of our culdesac and fell off behind him on their own. I wasn’t there to see it, I was inside cleaning, cooking, yet it plays in my mind like a beautiful piece of cinematography. The shock, the ecstatic look on his face, “”I’m doing it I’m doing it!”