As the school year commenced last week, I experienced a fleeting moment that went unnoticed by everyone except me. At the bus stop, children were bustling to board the bus, and my son and daughter were the last to ascend the steps. My husband called out, phone in hand, ready to capture one last memory. They turned to look, and my daughter wore what I refer to as her “anxious smile.” In that snapshot, she gazed off-camera—directly at me. After the picture was taken, she turned back and disappeared into the bus.
As the other parents departed, my husband and I made our way home. Inside, I felt a strong urge to collapse and weep openly, but instead, I maintained my composure. I couldn’t reveal to my husband, who already thinks of me as a bit unpredictable, that I had just envisioned the end of my life.
What troubled me wasn’t her fleeting glance, which I’ve seen many times before. This time, for the first time, I realized I might not have many opportunities left to witness that expression. It signifies her reluctance to leave, her underlying fear, but also a necessary step forward.
I will undoubtedly see that look again when she sets off for college, and I will hope she embarks on a journey filled with meaningful friendships, personal growth, and self-discovery, rather than the typical college experiences. I will see that same expression when she walks down the aisle, wishing for her partner to embody the qualities that her father possesses, someone who truly cherishes and understands her.
I will see that look again when she cradles her own child, praying she trusts her instincts and doesn’t fall into the same self-doubt that plagued me. And, when I am an elderly woman, frail and diminished, I will see fear in her eyes as she confronts the reality of my aging—fear that I hope will be tempered by fond memories.
I pray she recalls the times we spent together—reading her favorite books until we could recite them by heart, playing with dolls until I reached my limit, naming every toy “Lily” for an entire year, and allowing her to don Band-Aids as fashion statements. I want her to remember how I encouraged her to pursue ballet despite her fears, how I emphasized her kindness and intelligence beyond her physical beauty, and how deeply I understood her needs without a word spoken.
I hope she holds onto the memories of how she once found me beautiful, how she wished to remain in our home forever, how her father and I expressed our love openly, and how she worried about losing us too soon. I assured her that such a time was far off.
As I stood at the bus stop, I understood that in the distant future, if life unfolds as I hope, I will be the one gazing at this remarkable woman who has brought me endless joy and sleepless nights, and I will embody the same expression she once wore—one filled with fear and reluctance to say goodbye.
Until that day arrives, I pray I remember everything.
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In summary, saying goodbye to a child as they embark on new life stages can evoke deep emotions and reflections on the past. As they grow, it is essential to cherish the memories created and hope for their happiness and success in future endeavors.
Keyphrase: Farewell to My Daughter
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