For all the walking Duncan and I do, places we go together and people we visit, it's the little steps that matter the most, like making the long journey home over the holidays with a little help from some significant friends, Duncan's first swim at Easter, learning to fly a kite, or even the very first day I ventured out and wrote about our walks together. Miles and miles and words and words but despite the mountains we've climbed or paths we've followed, I'm still mindful of the little things, the easily overlooked and all-important details of life, like the ants scurrying across the sidewalk and being careful not to step on them or disturb the amazing little mounds––teeming with all their comings and goings––they erect along the places between sidewalk and grass, entire cities constructed of dust and pebbles, built by blind armies with devotion and hard work. It's the little steps that get us where we're going, one at a time, that make the most difference. For me it was traveling home solo for the first time since getting sick three years ago. Today for Duncan it was standing five feet away from the fountain at the park, big splashes of water slapping the ground around us, some even hitting the bill of my cap or falling on the curling red hair of his back. We sat for quite a long time and I know that soon, some hot, blue afternoon, while the leaguers play ball on the diamonds and the kids skateboard around us, Duncan will take those last little steps into the water and we'll share a moment of joy and triumph, like so many of the others we've shared together.