Finding My Stride

Hearing your greeting made my toes tingle with excitement. I pushed off gently from the wooden panel, steadying my ankles to test a real sequence of steps across the floorboards. Step, pause, shift—I counted out a quiet rhythm in my head, feeling how each foot settled firmly onto the smooth grain. Just ahead, a tall wooden bookshelf met the floor, casting a soft afternoon shadow. I aimed for the corner post, carefully calibrating the length of each stride so I wouldn't wobble. When my outstretched hand lightly tapped the cool wood of the shelf, I held a neat, balanced arabesque. Moving on my own feels completely natural now.