bold and bright

She goes to a school that uses laptops instead of textbooks.  Officially a high schooler for over a month now–she stretches to fill the space.  Like a butterfly emerging from a cocoon, she unfurls wings bold and bright and perches–tentative–waiting to lift off.  High school, it seems, suits her in a way no school did, ever before.

In one month’s time she has become a JV football manager.  Tried out for dance team.  Been elected student body president.

Honors classes, every one.  Homework keeps her up longer than she’s used to but those grades won’t slip on her watch.

She packs good stuff in a geisha bento box and promises to drink plenty of water.

She stays after for practice of one kind or another.  Her chair at the dinner table stands stark and causes my heart to twinge.  Another empty chair sits alongside and I eye them–wary–knowing full well that eventually the emptiness is going to bleed all the way across and leave just us two.

She isn’t the first, you see.  Once before, I watched helpless as one of my own grew wings.  I know what’s coming and I’m part-flutter part-not as I watch this one–this second in line–go by and by.  Slowly she goes and I have to remember to breathe out and then back in again.

I see color in her cheeks and life in her eyes and I tear up wanting so much for nothing to change.  Wanting so much for her.  Knowing she gets a step closer each day.

I look back and–yes–there are regrets.  But here in this zip code, motherhood reminds me: she will be who she will be.

A smile warms and I inhale, hopeful, as she takes flight.

{Just Write}