A small boy running down these same steps.
Crying.
Trying to follow our car.
Someone grabbing him around the waist and pulling him back.
Julian.
Then I remembered the bicycle.
My little hands squeezing the handlebars.
“Don’t let go!”
And Julian laughing behind me.
“I won’t! Keep going! I’ve got you!”
I stopped.
Maybe people changed.
Maybe that boy had grown into a man capable of abandoning his child.
But I was finished accepting truths that other people handed me without question.
I turned around.
“Richard.”
He looked irritated.
“You’re becoming emotional.”
“No.”
