I was out for my walk this morning, thinking and visualizing my goals, as one does, and a memory popped into my head of my daughter when she was a brand new toddler twenty years ago:
She got up from playing on the floor and toddled over to our dining table, steadying herself on one of the chairs. The next thing I knew she was pushing the chair with intention. She didn’t get far but she was pleased. Our dining chairs were heavy and wood. I was challenged to carry two of them at once.
The next day she did the same, only she got a little farther this time. She repeated every day for several days in a row.
To give you a visual, we lived in the garden apartment of a brownstone, with an open floor plan. Kitchen/dining at the back. Living at the front. My husband and I watched with fascination and amusement as her little toddler self eventually pushed that chair from one end of the house to the other, about 40 feet.
We thought that was it – her finish line – and were suitably impressed as parents of toddlers are.
But the next day she was back at it because her real goal had not been to get to the other side, as it were, but to get to the cabinet where the stereo was. She got there – I wish I could remember how many days later this was – and with a triumphant smile I can still see clear as day, she climbed up on the chair, stood on her tip toes, reached the controls and successfully turned on the stereo.
I was – and still am – riveted that someone who measures their life in months could set a goal, formulate a plan for the goal and successfully execute it with patience and persistence.
How far will you move the chair today?
