I can tell already that it's going to be a bumpy year.
My baby is a Mighty Senior, and the whole world is opening up for her ...but she is also my baby, and every first for her is a last for me.
To quote a stanza from a poem that I requested my sister to write for me when she was a year old:
"There are great days ahead,
of that I am sure, but there won't be a baby at home anymore.
I hope you'll forgive
if I cling to the past, I've loved all my babies,
but you are the last."
The song I wake up with in my head these days is this one:
Schoolbag in hand, she leaves home in the early morning
Waving goodbye with an absent-minded smile
I watch her go with a surge of that well-known sadness
And I have to sit down for a while
The feeling that I'm losing her forever
And without really entering her world
Im glad whenever I can share her laughter
That funny little girl
Slipping through my fingers all the time
(Slipping Through my Fingers, by ABBA)
She's well on her way to the driver's licence - passing all the tests with flying colors. She has the job, and the savings account - her plans for college, and very good friends. (And thankfully, has been resisting the boyfriend so far.)
Giving her wings, and hope she can fly...
Fasten your seat belts - it's going to be a bumpy ride.
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