InContemplation by Amanda D.
She woke up crying in the middle of the night, complaining that her ear hurt. I cradled her like I had done for the last six years, but this time was different. She didn’t fit like she used to.
In that moment, it hit me that she is growing out of me, little by little in ways I can’t stop.
I thought about all the milestones that brought us here. When she was first born and it felt like I was walking in different skin. I’ll never forget the first time she gave me that sad baby face, with her bottom lip pushed over the top, breaking our hearts but somehow still so unbelievably cute. The first time she rolled over and almost fell off the coffee table. That night we were cooking dinner and she quietly got up and slowly started walking.
I thought about dropping her off at daycare for the first time after being home with me for the first two years of her life. Three years later, I watched her graduate preschool alongside all her little buddies from that same place.
Each moment has felt so big and they were. If she rolled over today, I wouldn’t be as ecstatic as I once was.
And here we are, about to close out our first year in elementary school. I would be lying if I said it doesn’t feel like another quiet goodbye. She has grown, learned and become more confident since the first-time walking through those elementary school doors.
If you think about it, that is what life really is. It’s saying goodbye quietly to things that you didn’t even know would end.
For now, she is stuck with me walking her up the elementary school steps, giving her a big giant hug with a kiss on the head. I know one day this too will end, so I am going to soak it in while I can.
