to live in this world
you must be able
to do three things
to love what is mortal;
to hold it
against your bones knowing
your own life depends on it;
and, when the time comes to let it go,
to let it go
– Mary Oliver
The first time my daughter attended pre-school a bubble of tears formed on her face as she said, “Momma, please don’t leave me. I want to stay with you.” I remember walking away as I watched the alligator tears stream down her face. Every part of me wanted to run back. Hug her tight. Hold her close. Let her know that Momma would always be with her. In her heart. My legs moved forward even though I felt the weight of letting go. But part of me felt a little relieved that she still needed me.
Almost two and half years have passed since that day. Now I am witnessing so much independence from my little girl. She wakes up in the morning and uses the restroom, brushes her teeth, and heads to the shower. She doesn’t need me to squeeze out the toothpaste or get her towel or help her get dressed. As soon as she finishes bathing, without prodding from me, she puts on her uniform for school. After combing her own hair and slipping on her socks, she announces she is ready for school. “I’m ready. Are you ready Momma?” I know that all these acts exhibit time’s movement and the gravity of the wholly ordinary rites of passage. The meaning of these moments are not lost on me. I tell her, “Yes, I am ready,” but inside I am trying to come to terms with how much she can do on her own without my help.
She often reminds how much she can accomplish on her own. Monkey bars are “easy-peasy” according to her. Her arms can swing forward and backward in seconds. When I watch her, she says, “After the last bar, I am going to let go. And I know how to land without it hurting.” The release is an easy transition for her. For me, it is fraught with an ambivalence of emotions. For every “mundane” chore or task she masters, she needs me less.
Today, she announced that she didn’t need me to accompany her on a playdate.
“I will be fine with Mrs. K (other girl’s mom). I am not going to cry. You can stay home Momma.”
“So you don’t need Momma anymore?”
“I need you Momma, but I can do things by myself.”
It’s the letting go. The release. And as much as she isn’t shedding tears, I am. And inside, I am saying, Don’t leave me. I am not ready to let go.
Welcome! I am a lawyer turned freelance writer, essayist, and editor. On staff at Literary Mama and the co-founder and co-editor of the literary journal, The Sunlight Press, my essays and reported work have appeared in The Washington Post, The Lily, Saveur, Civil Eats, Brain, Child, ESPN and elsewhere. I am currently at work on a memoir on grief and culture and how it provides perspective on life’s ordinary graces. I invite you to appreciate the ordinary with me. I hope my daily practice of seeing the magic in the mundane helps you celebrate and find more of these moments in your life too.
Love that quote! The independence is much harder for us than them.
That Oliver quote really resonates with me. And it is so hard to let go.
I almost teared up when I read the last few lines. I’m right there with you, as the mother of a 7 year old boy. He arranges his own play dates now though bless his heart, he worries about me. On Sundays my husband’s got his own activity and my son will ask me, before heading to his friend’s, “Do you *want* to be by yourself? Do you have things you need to do?” Of course, I feel the right thing to say is, “Please don’t worry about mommy. You go and have a good time.” I wonder if he will think of me in this way 20, 30 years from now.
But just remember what your daughter said so perfectly: she can do things by herself, but she still needs you. I think that will always be true.
That is so sweet Cecilia. I love how he worries about your plans. There is a definite tenderness there. I must confess that I am not ready for my daughter to plan her own playdates yet. It is hard letting go, isn’t it?
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So hard to let go…I know. A beautiful post, Rudri.
Beautiful post Rudri! Letting go is definitely hard but I love how succintly N put it … I need you but I can do things myself. It’s important to remember the first part … they do need us no matter how big they get. I just need to remember that when Maya tells me “no mommy. I do it.” It’s bad enough when its the 4 yr old, but the not quite 2 yr old?!?
I like how she said she needed you, but that she’s was ok without you. That’s growing up for sure.