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The Magic Crystal
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Today, Helena walked up all the stairs (34?) to our 3rd floor apartment, upright, one hand in mine, her other on the railing.
It's all or nothing with that girl. I've seen her stand at the bottom and consider the prospect, then put her hands down to help her climb. Lately she'd stop after 4 or 5 steps and demand to be carried, more, I thought, because of the indignity and frustration of it, dirtying her hands, than because she was too tired.
This, after a day of much walking, rustling through fallen leaves.
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