Today, there is a tiny shadow on my heart. It is not the golden orb with yellow finger-like projections that it usually is.
Today, my baby girl hopped on a plane and is, as I type, preparing to land in a place she has never been to before; then she will hop on another plane and fly to her final destination, which is 3000 miles from home, which she will not arrive at until 8:00p.m., which is a place she also has never been to before.
Yes, she's flying alone. She's 10. (Is it safe to post that here?)
We hung out this morning and talked and played a little. Here and there, she would well up with tears and I would hug her and tell her she would be fine and that I love her very much. I think it was just as much for me as for her.
You see, when the time came for the flight attendant to come to the gate and get her I couldn't stop the tears as I watched her go. We hugged and hugged and hugged again before they said they had to go.
She's supposed to call me when she gets to her first destination where she will have a layover a little more than an hour.
She can handle it. But can I?