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Tuesday, January 27, 2015

The First to Fly. . .

It's an interesting thing to know something is coming but yet be completely unprepared for the actual event.  Especially when the event happens in a way that isn't ideal.  I think all parents must feel the pain of the first part, at the very least.  I hope not many experience the second.

It's not as if I didn't notice my daughter getting older and stepping decidedly into adulthood.  Heck, I was there encouraging, cheering on, and even pushing at times.  I felt the internal parenting clock ticking almost as much as the biological one does at times. . .urging us forward before it's too late.

Can she budget well?  Has she established credit?  Does she know how medical insurance really works?  It all came pressing down amidst Senior activities and work and friends.

There was all the time in the world at one point and then, suddenly, there was hardly time to teach her how to make a basic white sauce.

So, I knew the once far-off day was imminent, but when it came, it was still hard.

Especially since it didn't happen well.

I had envisioned a teary send off to college and independence and life, complete with me stuffing her car full of toilet paper and home made lasagnes.  I thought it would be momentous in that excruciating way that partings can be when they're equal portions of utter pride and deep despair.

But this one was hurried. . .rushed because of choices that weren't ideal.  Like a premature birth of sorts. . .you knew you were pregnant, but a baby?  Today??

The last leisurely conversation before my baby took to her wings wasn't as planned.  It was rushed with talk of legal documents and medical insurance and how to file her first set of taxes.  It was hard to process the loss when there were so many things needing to be said, but the sense of loss was there.  More excruciating because it wasn't supposed to come quite yet.

So the balance wasn't great.  Between pride and pain, I mean.  It leaned heavily toward sadness and grief and a bit of shock.  But there was still pride there, amidst the packing boxes and endless instructions.

She's a great kid.  I mean woman.  Gifted and beautiful and treasured.  I'm not convinced she knows yet how much she's loved and how valuable she is, but I do know this. . .she has more than she needs to become all she wants to be.

And I hope to watch it all unfold.  Through teary eyes, probably, but that's to be expected.

She's my first to find her wings.

And as one of our favorite shows reminds us. . ."you weren't made to fly, baby girl. . .you were made to soar."

So soar, my beloved daughter.  Soar and soar and soar.

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