Where are you going, my little one?

I had a dream last night which in one form or another probably comes to most parents.

Early in the dream, my daughter and I were doing the sorts of things together the way parents and eight-year olds do, laughing and playing. As the dream progressed, she slipped in and out of my awareness, a little bit older and more independent each time she reappeared. At the end of the dream she was fifteen, in the midst of a dozen or so friends walking down the street away from me; just before she rounded the corner and left my sight, she turned to look at me, smiled, and continued on with her friends.

I awoke with tears in my eyes.

It can hurt so much, yet you know you've got to let them go.

Note: this originally posted on ketches, yaks & hawks 7 November 2007