roots & wings

When Leslie was the only preschooler in my life I couldn't even fathom what life would look like for us when she became a teenager. I didn't know that we'd be living in Florida. I wouldn't have thought I'd be teaching preschool. Back in those days I lived in a mostly blissful state. I truly got up each and every day and gave thanks for our beautiful life. I didn't take any of it for granted. I had spent six years taking my temperature, getting shots, having surgeries, and wishing on every star in the sky. I wanted to be a mama more than anything in the world. I can't even describe how it felt when I finally held Leslie in my arms for the first time. The closest I can come: love at first sight. She was an easy baby, an agreeable toddler, a language loving preschooler. I wanted to show her the world. I wanted to keep her safe. I wanted to give her deep, strong, loving roots that would carry her through this life.

Fast forward to 2010. I am now the proud mama of a high school freshman and we are moving into territory that feels a little unstable, a bit otherworldly. Leslie has grown into the most lovely young woman. She is confident in who she is. She is gracious and funny and creative and thoughtful and smart. And she is doing what all teenagers do - taking those first tiny baby steps away from us and out into the world. I know that this is normal. I know that this is right. But it's scary. I'm not ready. I need more time. Oh, I know she wants to try out those wings. And she should. I'm really trying to remember that the roots are strong and will carry her where she needs to go. And when she needs a soft place to rest and the wings are tired, I'll be here to be the landing and push her back up into the sky.