I’ve faced her departure so many times now you’d think it would get easier. It is a part of life, I know, this letting go, this standing by and cheering her on as her wings gain strength and lift her into flight, my sweet, sweet baby, moving deeper into adulthood and further away from me. And, of course, there is the lesson I’ve learned (over and over and over) that things carry on, that I will adjust.
And still it is as if a part of my body has been cut out, a part I need to exist.
Just yesterday Eliza left for Spain, a summer spent studying abroad. What a remarkable opportunity. How thankful I am she will have that kind of experience under her belt at the tender age of 21. How much bigger and richer and more colorful her grown-up life will be, launched with this broadened world view.
This morning Tim and I took the canoe out for a quick trip across the pond, an early morning task to be completed as part of our neighborhood’s Spring clean-up. Down by the shore I came upon a littering of Canada Goose feathers, 15 or 20 of them, feathers large and small. I looked to the heavens and smiled.
We slid the canoe into the water and started to paddle across. I looked toward the cove to my right and there they were, sprinkled like stars across the water’s surface. White feathers here, there, everywhere.
Thank you, God I whispered. Thank you for another knowing:
All is well.
The first time: September 17, 2011 the things that we believe in
The second time: May 4, 2012 Feathers, Blessing and Miracles
The third time: July 23, 2013 he shall cover you