Letters to my Daughter

As any writer will tell you, when we write, we write with the reader in mind.  As I write my thoughts about the last-minute bits of wisdom I want to leave with my daughter before she flies ... I have seen the years play before me like a film clip.  

Last night was priceless.  We (Elledge family) were talking about random things related to Addie leaving:  college, summer plans, scholarships, forms, deadlines.  Libby chimes up and says ... in her most dramatic and reflective voice she can find in her innermost being ... "Wow.  Addison is really leaving.  It seems just like yesterday she was born.  I wasn't there but I've only had 9 years with her.  She won't get to see me grow up."

This is where I pause for dramatic effect ... and to go get a box of tissues!

I will continue to say this as often as it lodges in my heart:  where does the time go?  It's almost surreal.  Her leaving means we've lived a lot of life.  Her leaving means I'm no longer the young mother who's primary concern was keeping her pacifier clean.  Her leaving means time has flown through the river that is our lives.  Her leaving means ... she's leaving.

As I share - through words - this process, I am flooded with profound pride ... deep heartache ... wide-eyed wonder ... heart wrenching pain ... big smiles of reflection ... ache I've never felt before ... dreams for an unknown future ... fingers that can no longer hold her ... and desperate clinging to my Father that knows I can not do this alone.

These letters ... these words ... to my beloved daughter ... are my connection to her past, her present and her future.