I remember crossing my street alone, for the first time, at age five.   
 
My grandmother, barely five feet,watched from the doorstep.  She stood tall, like a sentinel.  Her arms crossed in front, steady stare, without missing a wink. 
 
The sun was high that morning, like an enormous welcoming balloon. The air on my cheeks felt like a caress. The breeze carried the rumor of voices from the nearby open market. The aroma of fresh-baked bread teased my nose, and the roar of spirited voices rang in my ears.

Liberating feeling of being airborne in a magical carousel. No arms to hold me; no matter how sweet those arms. I stretched out and turned around slowly, as if embracing the entire world, and somehow I saw a glow in everything I saw...

The sun stroked the pebbles on my street. Playfully, they caressed my bare feet and the shape of my toes, as my toes hugged their shape--a touch that felt like the rose petal's embrace--and my heart glowed.