footwork

Lately, she pulls herself up to standing, finds her balance, and then lets go of the chair or tabletop or whatever it was she was leaning on.

She looks at me like, “Well. Maybe now.”

I look back at her.

“OK. Maybe now?”

I glance in front of her. What will she trip on? And behind her. What will she land on if she falls backward?

“OK.” I hold my arms out.

She sinks. She is a master of the controlled collapse.

No. Not now, after all.

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