By four o’clock, the golden light of late afternoon stretched across the porch carpet.

Theodore sat on the woven rug near Raymond’s leather boots, babbling as he patted a bright patch of sunlight.

He reached out his small fingers, grabbed the sturdy wicker leg of Raymond’s armchair, and pulled himself up.

His little knees wobbled inside his yellow cotton pants, but he kept his back straight and stood on his own two feet.

I started to reach out from my chair to catch him around the waist.

“Look at him walk, Raymond,” I whispered, pulling my hand back.