to my daughter
March 12, 2017 § 2 Comments
Saying goodbye, as you prepared for your first trip without us, was almost too easy. The effervescent enthusiasm of your anticipation was contagious. You were eager to leave; waking hours too soon, ready to take flight.
It was barely after one in the middle of the night when you woke me, draped in a blanket and wide awake. Worried you had overslept and ready to begin an adventure, you were restless. You curled up beside me, completely unable to sleep, perpetually checking the time and losing the struggle to silence with fragmented bursts of disconnected chatter.
When at last I conceded the hopelessness of sleep, you raced efficiently through your morning routine. It was, perhaps, the first time all year you were untempted to play when there were tasks undone.
At school, as the groups of families gathered for goodbyes, you bounced between friends and raced through impatient hugs. I tenderly and with great amusement remembered the little girl who clung so tightly to my legs each morning of kindergarten drop-off. Gone was the hesitation that informed an uncertainty, in its place a fierce independence.
It is as it should be and so your father and I were pleased when you messaged us late your first afternoon away that you missed us, but only a little.
Soon we will sift through photos of your school trip, a visit to a place we once traveled as a family. I’ve been peeking at old images in your absence, lost in the space of so many changes. The shape of your smile as you’ve grown further into yourself and the lingering traces of an essential self that sparks humor with a twinkle in your eye.
I wish for only a moment, to be your companion on this trip; to share your awe and gather your wit. Instead I am contentedly eager to be the recipient of your stories. To save you a place of homecoming.
Love, Mom
scribblechic 
Beautiful Marie…and each day they take another step, and surprise us some more 😀
Thank you. It is such an intimately universal experience; giving our children wings only to grieve their absence and celebrate their flight.