3 More Summers

I drop her off in the early morning hours. Just as the sun is rising. I watch her join the group of high school kids who have gathered to run. They hit the trails early to try and stifle the heat. They run through miles of dirt and bushes. I can't fathom why anyone would do such a thing.

This morning, there was a low fog on the ground. She jumped out of the car and appeared to walk into a blurry mist. So I watched. Just for a moment. And I realized, that she has only three more summers here. Only three more summer vacations that I can keep her as mine alone. Graduation will follow, and then I'll have to set her free.

Three is such a small number. It doesn't feel like enough. I want to gather up bushels of time and hold it tight. Is that possible? Is there a way to slow it all down and let the milestones sink deeper into my skin? I know the answer, I just wish there was a way to alter it a bit.

When you are living with toddlers underfoot, life feels like a slow crawl that will never, ever end. But then, before you have time to notice, there are teenagers. And life feels like it's dripping through your fingers no matter the force you use to keep them shut.

So, she runs and runs and runs. And I stay. I watch and I wait for her. I believe that it shall always remain that way. She circles and lives life, while I am the centering constant that pushes her to learn to fly.

3.
I think I'm going to try and run along beside her.