“These stairs look… daunting,” I finished her thought. She was in unbelief that I used that word.

I love walking with her. Getting used to a slower pace was challenging, but I adapted. Sometimes, I slip up and walk faster, but she rightfully tells me to slow down.

When she’s with me, my precious little one, I try to avoid stairs. She’s sensitive, and I go out of my way to conserve her energy. The only exception is when I persuade her to take the train instead of the bus. It annoys her a bit, but the chance to walk and smoke with me balances it out.

At home, we sometimes have to take the stairs. Despite our love for elevator rides, stairs can be fun, especially if I make her sit down on the floor—distracted.

I love giving her little breaks during our climb. I appreciate how she stops me for a break at random times because she knows I want her well.

I miss walking with her, coming home exhausted after a long day. I want to untie her laces, take off her shoes and socks, rub her feet, and accidentally tickle her. I just want to nap with her.

I ignore the elevator now because it feels empty even when I’m inside.

As I climbed these stairs quickly, I thought about the breaks I wish I could be giving her if she were here with me.

I will preserve her energy from the merciless weariness of the stairs throughout her life and mine.