Ages and Stages

Well, that went fast.

Eighteen years sounds like a long time, but when you spend it raising a daughter, it goes by in a blink.

I delivered my girl to college on Saturday.

I know she's embarking on another adventure, but I don't get the ringside seat I've had for her other adventures and that's leaving me a little sad.

But I know how fortunate I am.

She's healthy, smart, and capable. She's found a college that seems like a great fit that will prepare her for a future doing what she wants. Bursting with pride and feeling melancholy is a weird combination of feelings. A hard one to describe, which is an odd feeling in and of itself for a wordsmith.

So, here's a verse I wrote for her when she was still very small, and I was struggling with my feelings after divorcing her father. She still saves me all the time.

For my daughter 

You save me from bitterness, sweet girl.
Without you,
how I might rail against heaven
and rue the days I spent
in your father's company
as wasted days, lost time. 

But if it took all those sad, difficult days
to make you,
it was little enough to pay.
If I had to cry
to bring the joy that is you into the world,
it seems a fair price,
a bargain.
I would have given so much more
had it been asked. 

When my heart wants to brood
on might-have-beens,
my breath stops
to think
that you
might never have been.