A Good Lap

Her legs looked endlessly long, her lean body relaxed and poised.  She appeared to move without effort; each graceful stride followed by another of equal value. It was like she was part of the path; she was in harmony with it. She pitched forward, stretching limb and body, and then was simultaneously caught and then propelled forward.  Her cadence was swift and rhythmic, as inevitable as the tide and as steady as a heartbeat.  She was ‘all-in’ – free - like a horse in canter.  

 I followed (as I was able) feeling awkward and uncoordinated. My ordinarily agile legs, felt fleetingly stiff and sluggish.  I was unable to feign rhythmicity, like that which I observed in her.  The glass from the window reflected back an image of a hunched and ungainly woman, shuffling through space with tension and awkwardness.  And though I have both grace and speed for someone my age, being cast into her elusive shadow – created a momentary disharmony.

She, who ran with such mellifluous elegance, is my ten-year-old daughter, Laurèn. I felt simultaneously joyous and disheartened.  I could not figure out how she came to be able to run with the grace of a gazelle and the stamina of a thoroughbred.  In fact, I felt as though I had, only a moment ago, let go of her hand and watched as she took her first steps without me.  I could not comprehend how we had arrived here.  And moreover, I wanted to stop the incessant running around and around the track, with only glimpses of her black and pink runners, and take her back to the time when we jumped into the pile of leaves in our front yard, or the time when she hung onto my neck in the pool as I dove deep, like a dolphin, giving her a momentary thrill. 

As she increased the distance between her and I on the track, I became vaguely aware that she is beginning to move at her own speed, and though I desperately want to be beside her every step of the way, I cannot.  This is the happy/sad place that other parents have alluded to.  It is a delight to see her stretch and even fly on her own, however, there is also the pain of losing that place where she fit so nicely onto my lap. 

As we continuously redefine ourselves within these immensely important relationships with our children, it is so important to celebrate that which they accomplish alongside of us, and also their independent successes.  But we would be remiss if we did not also honor the very real feelings of loss, as they let go of our hands to take steps and strides on their own, leading them beyond our reach.  So, for now my child has catapulted out of my lap, but I will endeavor to keep it accessible, for I know that she will need a warm and comfy place to land, should she stumble and fall.