Grace did three independent things on Independence Day:
She biked four blocks home from a walk, well out of adult sight.
She walked home from Biege’s house alone, two blocks down Main Street, including crossing the town’s main street.
She swam, with Matt, out to the second (and furthest away) raft at the beach.
These must have had cumulative effect, because by the time I watched her, a tiny waving speck on the far away dock, I found my heart in my throat. It seems so imminent, her walking away; as much as I encourage her independence, often to the point where I worry about the message I send, I also feel keenly her movement away.
I don’t think I live vicariously through my children, but I definitely do fear the passage of time, and of course growing children mark this in a visceral, indelible way. I celebrate Grace’s every achievement and new milestone and simultaneously say goodbye to a stage of life I will never have again.
Today, like many days in these Adventures in Parenthood, I am both proud and sad, in a powerful, sometimes choking cocktail.