Bit by Bit

Tonight, my daughter is having a sleepover with a friend. It’s not her first sleepover. She’s had several this year. But this pang in my heart, loss of breath in my lungs, gets no easier with time.

I worry about her, miss her laugh, and wish to hold her while she’s gone.

It’s not any different from the first time she slept through the night with no need for milk or snuggles at three a.m.. And just like when she didn’t need me to catch her at the bottom of the playground slide anymore.

I’m sure it’ll be the same or harder when she goes on her first date, drives the car alone with her new licence, or moves into her first apartment.

Little by little, she grows up and away.

And bit by bit, I have to let go.

Knowing this, I look forward to tomorrow when she sails through the front door sharing sleepover stories about the brownies they baked and the front walkover she finally had the courage to complete. I’ll bend to smell her coconut shampoo.

At least for now, she still lets me brush her hair.

Photo by Daria Shevtsova from Pexels

11 thoughts on “Bit by Bit

  1. Danielle, this is lovely. I remember where you are, and it’s just as you say. I will say though that now that I’m on the other side, I’m loving this stage too. In a few years, when she’s not rushing back to you as quickly, remind yourself that there are good things to come. Also, I love the photo!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Awww. This hit home with me for sure. I have a 10-year-old and I find myself trying to spend as much time with her as much as possible, knowing a day will come when she’d rather hang with her friends. For now, anyway, she still wants to hang out with me.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. I was thrilled by the first sleepover. ME TIME. I mean, knowing I’d see my boy again the next day made it nice for me. I didn’t have a hard time with independent milestones until he left for college but maybe I’m weird.


Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.