She is bold. She’s confident. She’s everything and so much more than I’d dreamed she’d be at her age.
I had big dreams. Dreams for her that she wouldn’t be like me, and that she would be like me.
That she would learn to love. Love herself and keep her heart open.
She laughs without hesitation. She loudly gives her opinions. She’s not a wallflower.
I am happy and I am sad. I’m not losing her but I’m losing her.
This is what she’s supposed to do.
Learn from me, learn from her dad, then spread her wings and fly.
Why, then, do I suddenly feel so sad? The emotion came out of nowhere like a tidal wave.
Like a sunny day at the beach, we are frolicking and laughing, then a thunderstorm came without warning.
Tears welled up but got stuck and stayed in my throat.
I want to stay playing in the sun forever, enjoying the beautiful day.
But reality beckons me, at the corners of my mind it calls me to the light rain that’s beginning to fall.
It’s all going to be ok, I tell myself, as I open my umbrella and walk into the soft sand.
Have you ever wanted to freeze a moment in time?
Maybe not just a moment, but a sweet season.
Our youngest is going away to college soon. I found myself declaring today how happy I am for her. A little too emphatically, and I realized that I’m really trying to convince myself that I’m not sad. But I am. I’ll miss her so much.
But today, I am thrilled with helping her with a school project. I happily listen to her voice as she does homework with a friend in the kitchen.
These are the moments life is made of.