Every time I pull out the leash for my dog, Sparky, he becomes a bundle of excitement. He bounds around, brimming with joy at the prospect of fresh air, intriguing smells, and the adventure that awaits.
My children would greet me each day with their bright, toothless smiles, arms outstretched for hugs—as if they were saying, “Lift me up!” Each morning brought a new array of discoveries, from tasting new foods to mastering new skills—sitting up, crawling, walking, and eventually, saying goodbye to diapers. Each achievement marked a small step away from me.
As Sparky and I embark on our walk, the neighborhood remains familiar to me, but to him, it’s an ever-changing landscape. He sniffs the bushes, eager to find his furry friends, and leaves his mark for those who follow. He explores every inch of the sidewalk, pausing to investigate, and I dutifully clean up after him. He’s filled with wonder: “Where to next?”
My toddlers were always on the move, drawn to other kids like magnets. In parks or playdates, they’d observe their peers with a mix of curiosity and caution. I chased them everywhere—through hallways, across playgrounds, and even in grocery stores. I can still recall the day they were finally potty trained; it felt like a monumental step away from me.
While walking, Sparky often looks at other dogs, instinctively sensing when to approach and when to keep his distance. I watch with admiration as other dog owners command their pets with ease—sitting on cue, waiting patiently. Not Sparky, though. His enthusiasm sometimes leads him into danger, and I often find myself pulling him back from the curb, as he yearns to explore the next fascinating distraction—a cat or a tasty patch of grass. His eagerness to wander seems boundless.
My elementary school kids, on the other hand, ventured out each day without me. Though I entrusted their teachers with their care, I would occasionally drive by the school during lunch, hoping to catch a glimpse of them playing with friends. I wanted to ensure they were happy, even if they never noticed my presence. Those inevitable tough days—when a test was challenging or a friend was unkind—would ignite a protective fire in me. I had to learn to allow them to experience their emotions without rushing in to “fix” everything. They took more steps away from me, navigating the world’s minor and major pains, the sweetness of friendship, and the thrill of independence.
Sometimes, during our walks, Sparky will suddenly stop, pulling on his leash or stubbornly refusing to budge. He may want to explore a puddle or nibble on grass that doesn’t agree with him. He exhibits a mix of bravery and fear, especially when barking dogs catch him off guard. In those moments, he inches closer to me, still curious yet seeking comfort. It’s a dance of stepping forward and stepping back.
My middle schoolers were a whirlwind of emotions—joyful one moment and deeply saddened the next, often within the same breath. They were growing up, transitioning from the innocent cuteness of childhood to the awkwardness of adolescence. Their bond with me was both a source of comfort and a perceived burden as they navigated their changing identities. I missed the days of their infancy but felt excitement about the adults they were becoming—a significant leap away from me, even as they clung to the familiar.
As we approach home, Sparky instinctively knows our route, regardless of which way we’ve come. About half a block from our house, I let him off the leash. He trots ahead, eager to reach our front door, which he knows well. At around 10 years old, he understands that home is where he belongs.
My high school kids fill our lives with activity—friends, food, noise, and sports gear. They seem perpetually on the move, popping in and out, preparing for the next chapter of their lives. They’re growing more independent, yet they return to me when they need support, whether it’s for laundry or comfort after a heartbreak. Day by day, they venture further away until they eventually leave home, yet they always come back to visit. They know where to find me, and I’m just steps away.
Sparky will be there to welcome them back, too.