I started walking on my first birthday. I am pretty sure these snapshots were all made the same day when I was about 15 months old. We lived in a little town in south Texas while Daddy sold washing machines and kitchen ranges. We lived in a garage apartment.
Daddy used to tell this story to me:
When we walked down the stairs from the apartment I would always hold on to Daddy's index finger for support.
One day I stopped and said, "Wait, Daddy. I can do this." And I took hold of my own finger with the other hand, and went down the steps by myself.
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