How about… baby Mirabel taking her first steps towards Agustin after following the trail of flowers that Isabela made?
Baby Mirabel, a tiny whirlwind of energy, had declared war on stillness. Waking from her nap, she found herself alone in Casita, a vast and exciting playground. "Goo! Gah!" she babbled, her voice echoing in the sun-drenched rooms.
Her little limbs propelled her forward, a clumsy, determined crawl that left a trail of overturned trinkets and scattered dust bunnies in its wake.
Casita, usually so patient and accommodating, found its patience tested. A strategically placed floor tile would nudge the baby away from a precariously balanced stack of books.
Mirabel would just giggle, an infectious sound that made the house almost forgive the chaos, and crawl right back for another round.
But even boundless energy eventually wanes. Mirabel’s crawling slowed, her little arms growing heavy. She dragged herself forward, her attention caught by something new.
A trail of delicate pink flowers adorned the floor, each petal seeming to glow in the afternoon light. "Ooooh," she cooed, reaching out a chubby hand to touch one. Maybe her sister, Isabela, had made this beautiful path just for her.
Driven by curiosity, she continued forward, the flowers beckoning her onward. Her knees ached, and crawling suddenly felt like the hardest thing in the world.
She planted both hands on something solid – Casita, always there to lend a hand, had shifted a low stool closer.
With a grunt of effort, she pushed herself up. Her legs wobbled, threatening to buckle. For a heart-stopping moment, she teetered on the edge of a fall. But she didn't.
She stood, tiny and triumphant, a wobbly little soldier on a mission. Giggles erupted from her, pure, unadulterated joy. This was new. This was amazing!
One small step. Then another. Casita subtly shifted the stool along, providing a silent, supportive hand. "Ooh... Ah!" she squealed, her little legs shaking with the effort.
She clapped her hands, as if rewarding herself for this incredible accomplishment.
The flower trail led her on, past sunbeams dancing on the floor, out into the cool shade of the garden, her wobbly steps didn’t falter, propelled by the pull of something she couldn't quite name.
Each step was a victory, a burst of giggles and happy squeals punctuating her progress.
And then, she saw him.
Underneath the shade of the ancient oak tree, Papa sat on a small stool, wiping his brow with a towel, he was taking a well-deserved break from his chores, sipping water from a clay cup.
"Papá! Papá! Papá!" Mirabel chanted, her voice filled with excited urgency. Her little legs pumped faster, eager to reach him, she didn't need the flower trail anymore. Papa was all she needed.
Agustín, startled by the sound of his name, looked up, he expected to see Isabela, perhaps wanting help with her latest floral experiment, or Luisa, needing a moment of quiet, but what he saw stopped him in his tracks.
His youngest daughter, his Mirabel, was walking towards him, he watched, mesmerized, as she took her first, unsteady steps, her face alight with determination and joy.
A lump formed in his throat, a wave of emotion washing over him.
He set down his cup, leaped to his feet, and crouched down, his arms outstretched. Tears welled in his eyes.
"Come on, Mi vida," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Come to Papa."
"Papá! Papá! Papá!" Mirabel squealed again, her little legs working furiously.
They weren't fast enough, not nearly fast enough. She just wanted to be in her papa's arms. She sensed his pride, his love, radiating towards her like the afternoon sun.
With a final, determined wobble, she launched herself forward, right into her father's waiting arms, Agustín caught her easily, spinning her around in a circle, showering her face with kisses.
Mirabel dissolved into peals of laughter, her tiny body wriggling with delight.
He held her close, unable to believe what he had just witnessed. His little girl, his baby, had taken her first steps, and he had been there to see it, he looked back at the trail of pink flowers, a silent testament to her journey.
His baby had taken her first steps by following the trail of the pretty pink flowers.
He sniffled, trying to compose himself, it was a good day, a wonderful day.
He hugged Mirabel tighter, burying his face in her soft hair. "I'm so proud of you, Mirabel," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "So, so proud."
Requested by: @starlightmeadowbloom
Heh, thank you and sorry for writing for so late, I hope you like it ^^
