But now I know, a baby bird learns to fly in uncountable different steps, most happening so rapidly that we only discover them when we look backward.
Some steps are tearful,
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some are jubilant,
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some are barely perceptible.
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The only truly common denominator is that all are bittersweet. How is it that my own baby bird could be cruising down the sidewalk on her own 2-wheeled bike, faster than I can keep up walking, while I still have her toddler seat attached to my bike? Since I somehow missed the obvious time to remove it, I may just keep it, now. Bittersweet.
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