My baby sister turned… a certain number of years today.
I miss the time when she was learning how to walk. There’s this particular image I’m having in mind, of one afternoon in Hanoi when she wobbled from the cupboard into my open arms, her chubby little legs marching uneven steps. Back and forth she went. Each time I increased the distance a teeny tiny bit by shuffling away from the cupboard. But would always catch her if she fell.
She’s my baby. Was. Is. Will be.