I still remember the way that condescending bitch of a woman spelled it out. How much, with each exaggerated syllable, I hated her and her unsolicited advice.
As in, it was a concept that I, on Amy’s first day of kindergarten, failing miserably to grasp, needed to embrace.
Like I needed reminding about the pain of letting go, even in little steps.
Maybe she’d mastered separation, shutting off the faucet of her own sorrow.
But not me, my emotions gushing out like my body was a broken water main.
So even now, with my girl at 18, I reject the concept of separation.
I need my daughter like I need oxygen.
It will be that way for as long as I live.
And this fall, once again, I will kiss her palm like I did that first day years ago, and close her fingers around that kiss for safe keeping.
Feel that same pain as she big-steps away to college.
Just so she knows.
That word will damn sure never be part of my vocabulary.
“Because there’s nothing more beautiful than the way the ocean refuses to stop kissing the shoreline, no matter how many times it’s sent away.”
― Sarah Kay