While the farmers’ market was in full swing, there
by the fountain, a baby girl was learning to walk. Her
warm cinnamon face radiated light not yet dimmed
from understanding the cruelties of this world, the odds
stacked against her for reasons beyond her control.

She was no bigger than a paper bag full of groceries,
with dark curly hair and plump apple cheeks as she
toddled along in her gingham dress, her cankles squished
into sandals with one strap barely secured like a climber
desperately holding onto the edge of a cliff.

Her father was the puppeteer and little her arms the
strings, as he guided her to where her mother waited.

Then suddenly he let go.

The baby let out a panicked cry, as if she were
now a funambulist forced to traverse a tight rope
set precariously high. Too high for us to look away.

We all watched to see what would happen next—the
bohemian woman hawking goat milk soaps that
smelled of lavender and mint, the Lebanese couple
bagging tubs of garlic hummus and sweet baklava in
exchange for a crisp twenty, the two blondes sitting nearby
sipping iced matcha lattes with yoga mats in tow.

Her mother waited just a few feet away and beckoned
her to keep coming. She heeded the call but her body
swayed to and fro as if she were a ship on choppy
waters, tossed about by Poseidon’s mercurial whims.

One step, then another, then another.

We waited with bated breath, like when Michael Jordan
was taking a shot with seconds left on the clock, like a
SWAT team awaiting the signal to move in to secure
the target, like when in middle school you told your
crush you liked them, and waited with anticipation to
see their response hoping they too, felt the same.

When at last she made it to safety we breathed a sigh
of relief, continuing to watch as her mother swept her
up into her arms, the same arms that held her when she first
came into this world, and the same arms that will hold her
when she does fall and will need comfort from the pain.

We too, joined in exuberant praise as we clapped our
hands and cheered loudly, relieved she made it and
proud of her courage to press on despite the fear, each
of us now slipping into the mother’s body and lifting the
baby high into the air, lavishing her with words of love.