Walking Through Dalhousie, I Realized I’m Growing Up

A Diary With Dad story from Himachal Pradesh

Dalhousie is the kind of place where you walk without checking the time.

The roads don’t hurry you.
The trees don’t rush you.
Even the clouds seem to move slowly.

And when everything around you slows down, you start noticing yourself.

I noticed that I don’t need to hold his hand anymore when I cross the road.
I noticed that I walk a little faster now.
That I look ahead more than I look back.

Growing up doesn’t happen all at once.
It happens in small moments like choosing your own jacket, ordering your own tea, or walking a few steps ahead instead of beside someone.

But while I was discovering these things about myself, I noticed something else too.

He still walks on the side closer to traffic.
Still checks behind to see if I’m there.
Still turns around to ask if I’m tired, even when I’m not.

To him, I’m still the one who needed help with steps.
Still the one who had to be reminded to zip her jacket.
Still the one who got sleepy on long walks.

Dalhousie felt like the perfect place to see this difference.

On one side, the hills teaching me to be steady on my own.
On the other, a father making sure I don’t stumble.

It’s strange, becoming independent while being protected at the same time.

I walk forward.
He watches from slightly behind.

Not because he doesn’t trust me.
But because that’s how love adjusts, not disappears.

Growing up doesn’t mean leaving someone behind.
It just means walking differently.

Dalhousie didn’t show me how tall the mountains were.
It showed me how much I’ve changed without realizing it.

That I can handle more.
That I think more.
That I see the world differently now.

And yet…

To him, I’m still small enough to be looked after.
Still someone whose steps matter.
Still someone whose pace he matches.

Maybe growing up isn’t about proving you don’t need anyone.
Maybe it’s about learning to carry them with you, even as you walk on your own.

Dalhousie didn’t teach me this loudly.
It taught me while walking.

That independence can be quiet.
That protection can be gentle.
And that growing up doesn’t mean you stop being someone’s child.

It just means you start becoming yourself.
While someone else is still learning how to let you.

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